I Heard it Through the Grapevine
by Aseph
Summary: Nobody thought a young woman could survive while working for the railroad. She did.
1. A message from the grapevine

I looked down, my hands were covered in blood. The man on the table was screaming and gasping for air. "Help him!" someone shouted at me. "Do something!" someone else screamed. Everything was blurry and I could see faces around me looking disappointed and scared. I began to cry. Suddenly I sprung up from my bed in cold sweat. It was a nightmare. "It was just a dream, just a dream," I murmured to myself. A nurse from across the room looked at me.

"You alright there?" She asked.

I nodded and got up with water still in my eyes. She walked over to me. "You were dreamin' 'bout the war again."

I nodded again and tried to smile. "I'm alright, Sue."

"No you ain't alright! You hardly sleep and you're lookin' sickly," she protested.

"That's ok, Sue. Gives me more time at night to look after the folks here. Let's just get started on breakfast."

I went behind the changing screen and took off my nightgown, seeing the few scars I had from being a nurse during the civil war. The men called the other doctors and me "sawbones". Which was accurate. The number of limbs we had to amputate made my stomach turn whenever I thought back on it.

I put on my corset, undergarments, dress, and headed out to the hospital kitchen. Every day we cooked for all the patients in the hospital and men back from war who were having lots of trouble. They called it "Soldier's heart." I knew I was no soldier, but at times I knew I was feeling exactly the same way they were; scared, helpless, sleepless, shaky, and nothing could help get rid of it or the images in our heads.

The day went on as usual. We cared and dressed wounds, made lunch and dinner, and spent time with all the patients. I liked my work. I liked being able to care for folk and make them smile. I was sweeping the wood floor when Sue walked towards me with a paper in her hands.

"For me?" I asked.

"Yes, it's from your uncle."

I never got letters or telegraphs from anyone. Excitedly I took the paper and sat down in the office to read it.

"Dearest Rosanna,

Work on the railroad is progressing, but slowly. I miss you, and the rest of the family and I hope you are doing well. Unfortunately this is not simply a casual message. I write to you with the urgent request that you join me in Nebraska at Hell on Wheels to help us. The camp town is in dire need of a nurse with medicine and expertise to care for them during the upcoming sickness season. Also knowing that you are an excellent seamstress will surely be put to (very) good use here. There is no one else I trust with this task. I know you are strong willed and experienced. Work is rough, the people here are a little rough around the edges as well, but I hope that will not scare you away. Please come as soon as you can.

-Uncle Thomas D.

A soft knock came at the door, and it opened slowly. One of my patients came in. He was a soldier from the Union army who played chess with me almost every day. Startled, I looked up.

"You're leaving?" He asked sadly.

I looked down. "I think so. My uncle asked me to come help him while he's building the railroad."

"Mr. Durant?" He asked.

"Yes. He's been so kind to me – sending me money for living and funeral expenses – it's the least I can do." I said with a sad smile.

"We'll miss you." He smiled.

"I'll miss you all, too."


	2. Flowery Names

There I was in Chicago, boarding the train that was going to take me all the way to Kansas. I grabbed my bagged and got on. For hours I listened to the rhythmic, constant turns of the wheels on the train. I was alone again, but I was used to being alone. I stared out the window thinking about what my uncle would say, and what the town and people would be like. Mr. Durant was the only family I had, and needless to say, I was hoping he'd be at least happy to see me. I closed my eyes and pictured myself all grown up with a family, somewhere out west, baking pie.

My happy dream was cut short by a loud voice. "END OF THE LINE! EVERYBODY OUT!"

I hopped up and grabbed my one bag that I brought. I gathered up all my curly red hair and stuffed it under a hat. I was wearing pants and a long dark brown jacket. I didn't want to show up in a fluffy dress and gather attention. I knew my disguise had worked because no man tipped his hat to me, or offered to help me with my bags, or opened the door. I smiled under my wide brimmed hat. I stepped of the train and looked out on the endless horizon. My breath was taken away by the green beauty and the height of the mountains before me. The town was, well, it was not Chicago. But I didn't mind the mud, or the small tents, or rough people. I was in no place to judge anyone.

I walked over to my uncles housing car and walked up the steep steps. I knocked softly.

"Come in!" My uncle yelled impatiently, "and make it quick!"

I walked in. Mr. Durant's neck was craned over his desk, while he scribbled on papers. He glanced up at me for two seconds and went back to his work.

"Son, I don't care if you're an Engineer from Oxford, I don't have time for this, and you're too small to work on the railroad. Good day."

I smiled and spoke up. "Uncle Thomas, it's me."

His head popped up, obviously not expecting to hear a woman's voice. "Wha? Who?!"

I took of my hat and my wild red hair burst out in all directions. I smiled awkwardly.

"Rose!" My uncle stood up and ran to give me a hug. "I'm so sorry, I wasn't uh, expecting you! You never telegraphed me your reply."

"Well, surprise!" I laughed awkwardly.

"Yes, yes, I'm very surprised! And very pleased to have you here. Look at you! Why you used to be a short, freckled, little redhead and now you're – well, you're a young lady! You look like your mother. But, uh with your father's hair," he chuckled.

I smiled sadly. My uncle looked me up and down and began to look troubled.

"What is it? Is something wrong?" I asked

"Well, no. Well, yes. Well, you have definitely grown up, dear, and that's wonderful! But you're wearing pants." He said.

"Yes… I am?" I was confused

"You'll need to wear a dress. And I can get you plenty of fine, modest, dresses."

"I just feel like it might be more efficient to wear slacks while I'm here." I said.

"I absolutely agree with you, dear. However, in this town, it is best for your safety if you wear something that um, blend in a bit better."

"Oh, I understand." I said sadly.

"Of course, if you go horseback riding of course you can wear pants, but for now I'd like to keep you safe." He smiled. "I will find you a dress and after you get ready we will have a nice dinner together. Hm?"

"Thank you, uncle."

"Lily Bell, my good friend, will help you if you need anything."

Mr. Durant gave me the frilliest, most uncomfortable, outrageous dress I'd ever been in. Mrs. Bell, a widow who surveyed land for the railroad was a guest of my uncle's and a proper lady. She was sweet, polite, but a bit self-righteous. She, too had a ridiculous gown on for dinner. She laced my corset on so tight I could scarcely breathe. She also noticed the unhappy look on my face.

"This is a beautiful gown on you, Rose. Really, it is. I suspect you're not used to wearing formal dresses."

I mentally rolled my eyes, but physically I smiled politely.

"What was your surname?" She asked.

"Tyler. Rosanna Tyler. It might be better for you to just call me Tyler. I like it better than Rose." I said.

"Oh, but Rose it such a beautiful name!" she exclaimed.

I could tell she favored the word "beautiful."

"Flowery names are best fit for pretty women like you, Lily. Tyler suits me better, I promise." I said as nicely as I could.

"Tyler it is then." She smiled at me through the mirror. "Shall we?"

"Uhm, sure." I had a feeling I would have to actively try to tolerate her properness.

I walked out in my frilly, violet gown that clashed tremendously with my red curly hair, while Lily elegantly glided out to the dining cart in her baby blue dress. The "fair-haired maiden of the west" made me look like the crazy redhead from the loony bin. However, in spite of my clownish appearance, my uncle made it a point to compliment my new look.

"Thank you uncle," I expressed to him, "but I can just wear the dresses I already have. Please, no more fancy dresses. They don't suit me."

"You don't seem to like very feminine things," Lily said teasingly, "Were you raised with many brothers?"

My uncles shifted in his chair uncomfortably. I looked down at my fork.

"Yes, I had five brothers. We grew up on a large farm together. They made sure I was as tough as any boy." I tried to smile.

"Well, that sounds lovely!" Lily said with an ignorant smile until she realized I had said "had" instead of, "have." She slowly began to frown. "But, you've obviously inherited your mother's beauty, surely she was a good woman."

I couldn't reply to that one. My uncle grabbed Lily's elbow softly and whispered, "My sister – her mother died in childbirth."

Lily didn't speak another word during dinner. My uncle tried several times to break the silence. At the end of dinner my uncle poured us some wine.

"Should she be drinking wine?" Lily attempted to whisper discreetly to my uncle.

"I'm nineteen, Mrs. Bell. No worries." I tried to smile again.

"Oh." She said and looked down.

"Rosanna, shall we go out for a walk? I'd like to show you the progress and explain some terms just so you're familiar with everything while you're here," my uncle offered.

"That sounds nice."

The three of us walked out of the car and down the steps into the evening air. The sun was setting and everyone was settling in for the night. I looked up at the sky and saw more stars than I had ever seen before. While we walked out into the field Mr. Durant explained the plans and the landscape, but I could hardly pay attention. So many people in town were blatantly staring at the three of us. Particularly me because I was new in town, and dressed like a purple nightmare. I heard a few whistles from men near the whore house and made brief eye contacted with a tough looking man who rolled his eyes at me. Great. I was the new laughing stock of the camp. After begging my uncle to let me turn in for the night, I ripped off the terrible dress and forced myself to sleep. Tomorrow I would be moving out of the train cars and into town, no matter how much my uncle said no. I was going to blend in, not be some uppity "lady" who did nothing.


	3. Sewing for Whores

"You want to set up a tent in town? Instead of sleeping in a bed? My uncle asked in disbelief.

"Yes. That way I'll be able to help people when they need my and they can come find my easily. I want to be part of the community." I pleaded. "Do the people here know that there's a nurse here now with medicine and everything?"

"Yes, yes everyone knows you're here and they are quite eager to meet you, but I was hoping I could keep you here where I could watch over you." He frowned.

"Uncle, I'm not a little girl." I smiled and walked over to him. "I'll be alright and I'll only be a few feet away. Let me try to live on my own. I can do it."

He paused to think. "Very well. But you will join me for dinner. No exceptions. No being late."

"Yes sir." I grinned. I was happy to get back to helping people and being of use. And no more frilly dresses for me. I had 3 dark work dresses and a few pairs of pants that I intended to wear every day.

I got up in the very early morning so I didn't have to set up my little living quarters while being gawked at by everyone there. Mr. Durant sent a few men with me to help me set up, but I quickly shooed them away. I could set it up myself, the way I wanted it to be. Of course I needed to put a floor in, so I got to work hammering floor boards down, cleaning them as I went. I hit my thumb so many times I lost count. I set up carpets and blankets, and a cot with lots of colors, and covered the roof of the tent in long dry grass and yarn to help keep the moisture out. Mr. Durant had all my tools, supplies, and medicine cabinet shipped down and delivered to me. It was cozy, clean, and it was all mine. It took all damn day, but finally I sat down on a stool and admired my hard work. My hands were blistered, my thumbnail was purple and coming off, but I was happy.

Just as I sat down I heard footsteps coming up to my tent. The flaps flew open and there stood a very pretty, scantily dressed woman with a tattoo on her chin.

"You the new nurse?" She asked loudly.

"That's me." I stood up and shook her hand. She looked surprised at my forward friendly greeting.

"Heard you a good seamstress too. My gals and I were wonderin' if you could help us out. We'll pay you for sure." She handed me a dress. Behind her I could see other women waiting with dresses in their hands that needed mending.

I paused for a moment, finally realizing that all these women were prostitutes with torn, dirty dresses.

"Look, I know we're just a bunch of whores, but we will pay you." She said urgently.

I snapped out of my dumb moment. "Of course I can take care of it!" I smiled. "It might take me one or two days, but I'll fix 'em as best I can."

The woman smiled kindly at me. "Thank you. I'm Eva. This is Penny, Gerdy, and Nell. The other girls will probably stop by once in a while, too."

"I'm Tyler. Don't worry about the cost, just pay me what you can. They should be a sewn up by Friday."

They all handed me their stained dresses and went back to work for the evening.

The next morning and gathered up all the clothes and walked over to the river to wash them. Normally, it would've been nice for them to wash their own dresses, but I wanted to make a good impression. I sat by the riverbed scrubbing and singing. The sunshine was gorgeous on the water. I stopped singing suddenly when I heard a horse running past me. There was that same man that had rolled his eyes at me the other night. He sat atop his horse and looked at me for a few seconds. Thankfully he didn't roll his eyes, but he didn't stop to say hello, either.

I took the dresses back to my tent and spent the rest of the afternoon carefully sewing patches into them and mending hole after hole after hole. My hands were steady enough that I could fix the torn lace too. It made me a good surgeon too, which I couldn't decide if that were a curse or blessing. I heard my uncle's voice by my tent.

"Rosanna, may I come in?"

I opened up the tent for him. He looked around and smiled. "It looks quite nice in here. Are you enjoying it?"

"Yes, sir." I smiled and looked down at my sewing.

"What is that?" He asked? "Where did you get all those garments?"

"Oh, they aren't mine. I'm fixing them for the ladies in the town."

"You're fixing dresses for the girls down the road? The whores?!" He asked, appalled.

"Sure am."

He gasped softly and started to protest, but changed his mind before scolding me.

"That's uh, very kind of you. You are getting paid, yes?"

I nodded.

"Could I persuade you to leave your work for a moment to join us for dinner?"

We walked over to the dining cart together, my arm in his, and we say Lily talking to a man through the window. My uncle sighed heavily.

"You like her."

He patted my hand gently. "Yes, I'm guilty of that. But I'm afraid she might like another."

I looked up at the window. "Oh." I said.


	4. Stitching for Workers

I had stayed up all night finishing those dresses. And dare I say that they looked rather lovely. I even walked out and picked some wildflowers to put on top of them after they were all folded to give them a flowery scent. In the late morning I gathered them up and walked over to the brothel tent.

"Knock-knock" I spoke shyly.

Eva came outside to see me. She looked down at the pile of folded dresses. "Done already?" She exclaimed.

"Yeah, I wanted to keep myself busy."

"Awh, they look so good!" She took hers out of the pile and unfolded it, twirling it around.

Before I knew it women were gathering me up in hugs and thanking me and putting little coins in my hand. I didn't really need them, my uncle was paying for me to eat, so I felt pretty guilty.

"Everyone say thank you to Miss Tyler," Eva ordered.

All the ladies said thank you in unison.

"You're all very welcome. Anytime." I smiled and walked out of the large tent.

As I bent my head down to duck under the tent cloth, the top of my head bumped into a man with a dark vest and large boots.

"Ooof!" I grunted. I immediately excused myself and began apologizing before I even looked up. But then I did. And there he was, the same guy who rolled his damn eyes at me. I didn't know what to say.

"Anyone ever tell you Tyler's a name for a boy?" He said blatantly.

I didn't say a word.

"So, you're not a new uh, nighttime gal then?" He asked.

"No, sir." I said a bit offended.

"You're the nurse then?"

"You ask a lot of questions." I said blatantly as well.

"You look a little young to be an army nurse," he said suspiciously. "How old are you?"

"Old enough. Need somethin'? I asked.

"Yeah, some gun powder blew up in an accident, some men got wounded and need some stitchin' up. Can you handle it?"

I raised my eyebrow. "I'll do my best," I said sarcastically. "I need to go grab my stuff."

"You have a horse?" he asked condescendingly.

"…No," I said.

He rolled his eyes at me for the second time, which was two times too many. We walked over to my tent to grab my things and then he flung me on the back of his horse. Awkwardly, we rode together to the site where the gun powder blew up. As soon as we stopped I hopped of the horse and walked over to the nearest guy on the ground. There were only 3 or 4 who needed medical attention. Again, the men were gawking at me because there I was, a girl in a dress, here to help people. They weren't used to seeing a woman walking around with knowledge in her brain and a doctor kit in her hand.

I knelt down beside a tall man with wood chips and rocks in a wound on his neck. I grabbed some alcohol to poor on his neck to sterilize it. "This is gonna sting, sweetheart," I warned him, then poured a little on it, then took a swig from the bottle. I immediately regretted doing so, because it wasn't lady like and eye rolling man furrowed his eyebrows at me looking confused. Carefully, and quickly, I used tweezers to pull all the debris out of his neck and sewed it up with a few stitches. Not too bad. We went on to the next man, and the next, and the one after that. Eye rolling man watched me work carefully and held the men down in case they started to squirm in pain. I looked up at him and saw him intently watching my hands work.

"I never caught your name, Eye Roller." Did I just say that out loud?!

He chuckled softly. "Cullen Bohannon. I used to do this kind of thing in the war, too, just not as well."

"Not fun, huh?"

"Nope," he agreed. "So is it just Miss Tyler or Miss Rosanna Tyler or Miss Rosanna?"

"None of the above. Just Tyler is fine, thanks." I said, still sewing.

"Alrighty then, Miss Tyler." He said annoyingly.

I was about to reply with something stinging and sassy but was quickly cut off by the sound of screaming. I looked up and saw a group of black men huddled around the screaming man. Mr. Bohannon looked up too, but didn't move. I stood up and started walking over fast. He grabbed my elbow.

"What are you doin'?" He looked down at me.

"I'm going over to help, obviously." I jerked my arm away and kept walking.

I heard him sigh in protest and jog up behind me. I walked up to the group of men and saw the man lying on the ground. He had a large piece of wood protruding out the side of his face, near his eye.

"We gonna have to take his eye out." I heard one man say.

"No! Please, no!" The man yelped.

"I can get it out," I said as a walked towards him. All of the men stopped talking immediately and looked up at me. Mr. Bohannon held his hand out as if to say, "Let her do it."

They cleared a path for me to walk over to him. I knelt down and looked at the wound. I smiled softly at him.

"You're not going to lose your eye, hun." I said.

"Wha? Really? Who are you?"

"I'm gonna get this wood out of your eye. What's your name?"

"Uh, Wilson, ma'am," he stuttered.

"Tell me about yourself, Wilson," I said trying to distract him. He began to calm down.

As he started to talk, I gently closed his eyes, and poured alcohol on a small cloth and dabbed at the wound. He winced a little in pain. I grabbed my big tweezers and positioned them in the right place. I counted to three in my head, and on the third count I yanked the woodchip out in one fluid motion. He gasped in pain, but I quickly applied pressure on the side of his face.

"It's out. I'm gonna sew it up real quick, ok?" I said calmly. "If you keep it clean you can take the thread out in a few days."

After I finished I stood up and looked around at the black men all in shock at this white woman who helped their friend. None of them said anything. I didn't say anything. After an awkward silence, one of the men who was wearing a hat came over to me.

"Thank you," Was all he said.

I shook my head. "You don't have to thank me. It's no trouble at all."

Mr. Bohannon introduced him. "Miss Tyler this is Elam Fergason, Elam this is Miss Tyler."

We shook hands. "Wilson is grateful to you, too."

I smiled and Mr. Bohannon walked me back to his horse.

He lifted me onto the saddle and said under his breath, "You're as fiery as your hair."

He thought I didn't hear him. But I did.


	5. Grey-haired Horse

As we rode back into town, Mr. Bohannon had this scowl on his face that I had noticed many times before. He always looked as if something was troubling him, and I had never seen him smile before. He dropped me off at my tent without even a simple goodbye. I thought nothing of it, though. I figured I'd stay out of his way and he'd stay out of mine.

As the weeks went by, I became more accustomed to everything. Some things ran smoother, but there were also some things that got tougher. During the war I sewed up everybody, black, white, north or south, it didn't really matter to us working in the medical tents – we just took care of everyone as best we could. I was never a sweet, shy, or gentle kind of gal, but I tried to never be rude to someone before I got to know them. Some people in town started calling me the "negro lover." It was an offensive nickname they gave to everyone who showed a speck of politeness to people of color. As I usually did, I brushed it off my shoulder and continued my work. I thankfully put my med bag to rest for awhile, seeing as no accidents were happening, but I did a lot of tailor work, making dresses and stitching up clothing for the workers.

On Sunday mornings, I would go on long walks because there was no one else in town who belonged to the same church as me. There were no services for me to go to so I turned to nature. I searched for wildflowers, tried to exercise a bit, and get some fresh air. One particularly beautiful Sunday I heard a distant cry from an animal across the river. I knew I should have been thinking a bit more cautiously in my mind, but I quickly crossed the river and followed the sound. I came to a beautiful horse. A beautiful, angry, hurt horse. It had a dusty black mane and a grey body with speckled white spots. It was a girl, and it looked like a Nokota horse. And she was crying pitifully. She was lying on the ground, suffering from what looked like a swollen – maybe broken ankle. As I got closer, she became angrier, and I knew if she could run away, she would. I looked at her, and she looked at me.

I ran back to camp as fast as my feet would go, I arrived at my tent heaving and gasping for air, but there wasn't any time to waste. I had to get back to the mare. I grabbed supplies for the night, lots of medical wraps and some liniment. Thankfully when I came back she was still there, trying to get up on her legs, but her front left leg hurt too badly. She almost sighed hopelessly then got back on the ground, glaring at me. I started a very small fire and boiled some water from the riverbank. After heating up some soup I pulled a huge, thick, orange carrot out of my bag. Her head suddenly perked up as if she was a dog. Slowly, I crawled over to her with carrot in hand. She jerked her head to the side suddenly and neighed. I stopped and froze. Despite the fact that she was hurt, she was still a huge animal compared to me, and I didn't want to make her angry. Finally she turned her head back to me, realizing that I wasn't going to go away. I held my empty hand out, hoping my fingers remained where they were. She carefully sniffed my hand and I set the carrot down with the other. I backed away just as slowly and began to eat my soup. And there we were - couple of gals eating dinner together.

As the sun went down more, I gave her another carrot and she started to warm up to me. I thought. I wasn't sure. I pulled out the last treat. A shiny red apple. I approached her a little easier that time and brought the leg wraps, medicine, and a lead to guide her with me. I spoke to her like a person.

"Alright. I'm gonna set this apple down, and you are going to stand on 3 of your legs while I fix your hurt one. Okay?" I said nervously.

As I tried putting the lead on her head she began the thrash her head around in protest. All I could do was try not to get hit and repeatedly whisper, "shhh, shhhh, shhhh." We struggled back and forth for an hour. I was getting exhausted but I was not going to give up. And I didn't. She gave up before me. I gave her half the apple. Now all I had to do was stand her up. This took another 2 hours. I yanked on the leather to try to get her up, but she did not want to move. I bribed her with the other half of the apple, but she only looked down in sadness. She would not let me near her hurt leg, either. Every time I leaned in to look at it, she lifted up her voice in warning and scared me away from it. It was now pitch black in the evening, except for the soft glow of my dying fire. Sweating and tired, I sat next to her and stuck my hand by her nose, asking if I could pat her head. She allowed it and I softly stroked her mane.

"Listen. I don't know you and you don't know me, but I know that your leg is hurt. And I know you're in pain," I looked at her with intent. "I can help you. But you've got to let me try. Please?" I kept talking in desperation. "Sweetheart, you'll die out here if we can't get you fixed up. And now I'm a part of this whole situation. I can't let you die. I can't."

As if I had gained the gift of tongues, and could suddenly converse with animals, she stood up with three of her legs and kept her front left leg curled up towards her chest. Still in awe at her sudden standing I had to act fast to make sure she didn't walk away. I hopped up and tied the lead to a branch.

"Alright friend. If this goes well, the swelling will be down by morning," and I began to work.

Carefully and meticulously I rubbed liniment onto her joints and her swollen leg. I wrapped the hurt part with cloth very tightly, then supported it with more wraps. She cooperated even though she must've been really hurt. I grew up on a farm with animals, but I still barely knew anything. After I did all I could do, I laid down next to the fire for the night. I prayed with all my heart that she'd be a bit better tomorrow.

As soon as the birds started chirping at dawn I hopped up and went to her. She was still standing on 3 legs. I went to the hurt one and started carefully unwrapping the cloths. She started bending her joint back and forth. I looked up at her. "Doing okay?" I asked as if I was expecting her to answer.

I sighed with relief. The swelling had gone way down. I massaged her leg, putting pressure on it, and she didn't protest. I wrapped it back up and stood next to her. If she would walk through the river with me, I knew I could get her back to town. My pa always told me that taming a horse was easier in the water. I gathered up my things and untied the lead from the branch.

"I have to eat, and you have to eat, too. The nice thing is, back in town, they have stables filled with horses and they have grain and hay," I said trying to convince her. "What should I call you? May? How 'bout May? Yeah that'll work."

I pulled on the lead, she didn't follow easily but we made it to the river. Now we just had to cross it. I went into the cold morning water, (in a dress) and she slowly stepped in one foot at a time.

"Come on, May," I pleaded.

After loud neighs of protest, and what seemed like 4 hours in the cold water we made it across. She still walked with a limp, but we were able to walk at a steady pace back into town. Sean Mcginnies from the saloon stopped me.

"Where'd you get a horse?" He said in his thick Irish accent.

She's wild but she's hurt, I need to get her over to the rest of the horses and get her settled in,"

"She looks tame," Sean said in disbelief.

"Ah I wouldn't fall for that. She's a drama queen for sure," I winked.

Sean helped me get her back to the stables. I would come in for the next few weeks until her leg completely healed. She was so different from the rest of the light and dark brown horses that a few people around couldn't help but look at her. We were quite a pair. A grey haired horse, and a red haired girl. We stuck out like a sore thumb.


	6. Ain't No Princess

A week went by. I fed and tended to May every night. During the day I built a small garden box next to my house and planted some seeds. Sean came by for a chat every once in a while, he'd ask me about women, and what they want out of life. He would talk to me so hopelessly, then turn his head towards the church tent where the woman he liked lived. She was a pretty church lady, and Sean was hopelessly in love with her. He never told me so himself, but he didn't have to. His puppy dog eyed stare gave it away. I could see how sad it made him; loving a girl that was, well, hard to love. He was a kind, gentler soul, but he and my uncle shared the same problem. He loved the church lady, she didn't love him. My uncle obviously liked Mrs. Bell, but she liked Mr. Bohannon, but Mr. Bohannon was an odd man. I could see the frustration in both of them – in all of them. People were so terrible at hiding their true feelings. Not only was everyone stressed about the railroad, and business, and day to day life – but they also had to mix in these dramatic love triangles. It wasn't so bad for me, seeing as I just sat back and watched it all play out like a theater show. It was stressful, and sometimes tragic, but it was exhilarating and so different than anything I had experienced before.

Sure enough the Mcginnies brothers were talking about the tame-ish horse to the whole town. They referred to it as "Tyler's horse" but it wasn't mine at all. If she wanted to be wild, I'd definitely let her go. Some people around town were worried it belonged to a Sioux tribe, but May didn't have any marks or anything like that on her. In such a small railroad town, everyone knows everything, so I wasn't surprised when Mr. Bohannon showed up by my garden outside my tent.

"What're you tryin' to grow?" He asked.

"Carrots," I answered without looking up.

"Who gave you that horse?" He asked another question.

"The good Lord I suppose," I said matter-of-factly.

There were 2 things I didn't understand about Mr. Bohannon: why he always had to get into everyone else's business, and why he asked me so many questions.

"Who gave you the horse?" He repeated.

"No one gave her to me. I found her, she was hurt, so I'm trying to mend her leg before I let her go," I said a bit angrily.

"Red, are you tellin' me that you bandaged up that horse? What're you, an animal doctor now?"

More questions. And a nickname. I was getting frustrated. Why did it matter? I knew he was worried about the Indian threat, or maybe he was worried I was a thief or something, I didn't know. All I knew was that he was bothering me. I only glared at him.

"Well look-ee here! We got a doctor, a seamstress, a veterinarian, and an angel negro and whore lover all rolled into one little rich girl! Next you're gonna tell me you're princess from England," he said a bit harshly.

I looked at him calmly and cleared my throat. I wanted to slap him, but I didn't want to make a scene.

"What it is about me that makes you so upset, Mr. Bohannon?" I asked.

His eyes widened a bit in surprise. He looked a bit guilty, as if he wasn't intending to hurt me, but he could see the hurt by the expression on my face. "I didn't mean to make ya sad, lil' Red. I just don't understand why Durant's niece is here, mixing all up a town like this. It don't make sense. A place like this doesn't fit you. I'm tryin' to figure you out,"

I squared my shoulders and walked towards him.

"I'm not a little rich girl, and I sure as hell ain't no angel. I grew up on a farm. Mr. Durant is only taking care of me because I'm an orphan now. The war took everyone, everything from me! I'm here trying to help people, even if it's just a little bit. I ain't judgin' anybody! I ain't takin' up much space! Maybe I _don't_ fit in here, but I, for one, like to make others feel accepted. If you don't want me here, well, that's a damn shame cuz I ain't leavin'!" I lowered my voice a bit. "There's not much to figure out about me, Mr. Bohannon. You should stop tryin'."

His jaw dropped just slightly enough for his mouth to open. He was in shock. How in the world had this little red head just talked back to a man like him? My voice had risen to a loud enough volume that Lily Bell began walking towards my tent. Without thinking I added one last stab at Mr. Bohannon.

"If you're lookin' for a Princess from England, she's right there," I pointed in her direction, Mr. Bohannon turned to look, and as he did I stormed into my tent and swung the flap closed.

I was fuming. I shouldn't have gotten so angry. I could hear Lily whispering to Mr. Bohannon, asking him what was going on. They walked away before I could hear his answer. There were a lot of men in town who didn't have the best manners, or the nicest beard, hair, or teeth, but out of all of them, I disliked Bohannon the most.


	7. Nightmarish Memories

He came to apologize the next day. I suspected he would. It was just part of his moral character. Although he knew I was an asset to the town, he still though of me as a mere woman, and it was proper to be polite to ladies. I guess. He found me in the livery with the rest of the horses while I was tending to May.

"Durant told me about your, uh, story, er, circumstances," he cleared his throat.

"Circumstances?" I chuckled and looked up.

"Red, it's just, this is no place for a woman," he said sternly. A lady in a skimpy dress walked by and he tipped his hat to her. "'less she's a whore," he finished.

"It's alright," I smiled. "You're right, but this is where I am now so I guess I'll just have to stick it out,"

"You do a lot of good work, so just, uh, keep it up," he stuck his hand out. I shook it sincerely. Mr. Bohannon was not the type of man to say "thank you" or "sorry" very often, so I figured that was the best apology he could do. He turned on his heel and walked quickly away.

"As fiery as your hair," he said under his breath.

I rolled my eyes. A few minutes later, Sean Mcginnies's brother, Mickey strolled in.

"I wanted to take a look at your wild horse," he grinned.

He sat down next to me. "You're quite the gal," he said as he ruffled my curly hair. "Tell me, you must be a bit Irish or Scottish, aren't ya?"

"Yes. My mother's mother is from Ireland. I got my red hair from her. But, when my ma broke away from her family's church to join a new church and come to America, her family disowned her," I frowned.

"Ah," he said and furrowed his eyebrows. "So, where is all your family?"

"They've passed on," I looked down. Trying to change the subject, I forced a small smile. "What about you, Mickey? What's your story?"

Mickey walked me back to my tent as he told me about his family in Ireland, and his plans for Sean and him to make their fortune. Every time I looked up at his facial hair I tried not to giggle. He was an innocent goof at heart, but wanted to be more than that. He wanted to be tough, and I could tell. But he still made me giggle. We were almost at my tent when we heard the train roll in loudly. I could hear Mr. Bohannon urgently yelling.

"Red! RED! Where's Red?!" He shouted at the town.

Mickey ran off to find him, I ran into my tent and grabbed the medical supplies in anticipation for what the commotion was all about. Mickey and Mr. Bohannon ran up to me.

"Steam engine blew, we got hurt men, let's go," he grabbed me hard by my elbow and led me to an entire portion of the train with hurt men lying on it. He almost threw me at them without giving any more instruction. Some had broken legs and arms from being crushed, others were burned badly, and others were bleeding everywhere from unknown causes. I started to panic, but managed to get my thoughts in order.

"Mickey, I need more medical supplies and witch hazel, can you get me some?"

Mickey ran off as quick as he could. I put my thoughts in the back of my brain and began working frantically. I could already see that two men had stopped breathing. I wasn't working fast enough. Men were groaning in pain. My hands started shaking. I walked over to a man who was bleeding fast enough to soak his entire shirt, I began trying to stop the bleeding. The men who were now stable enough to be moved were being lifted onto cots and carried to the church. After a few minutes, only the two dead men, the bleeding man and I were left on the flat train car. His lungs were filling with blood as he gasped for air. I could hear him choking on his own blood. My hands began shaking violently as I tried to put more pressure on the wound near his stomach. The man suddenly grabbed my hand as if to make me stop. He knew he wasn't going to make it. I stared at his bloody hand grabbing mine. My entire body was shaking uncontrollably at this point.

"No. NO. No, no, no, no," I spoke to myself as I saw his eyes start to roll back in his head. The grip from his hand loosened suddenly as he let out one gasp of air and his head flopped to one side. I was still shaking my head and I involuntarily started crying. Images of men in grey and blue started flashing in my mind. I couldn't make them go away. Flashes of torn limbs and fields of blood clouded my brain and blurred my eyes. I tried blinking the tears away, but I couldn't see. I could only hear ear-piercingly loud trumpets and screaming. I could only see white, lifeless faces fill every space around me. I began to panic and scream. I was hyperventilating. I felt as if I was about to pass out or die. I knew I was speaking incoherently because I could hear myself saying, "wait!" "stop!" and "no!" The hyperventilating became worse. Black dots started blurring in with the haunting images. I was in hell. "This must be hell," I thought. Suddenly someone grabbed me by my shoulders and stood me up. Another grabbed my ankles. I started to thrash around in fear and tried to get away. I didn't know what was happening.

I heard the two men who were carrying me away try to talk to me the same way I talked to my wild horse. "Shhh, shhh, shhh," they said sternly, "stop!"

A splash of water hit me in the face and cleared away the heat from my brain. I began to focus on the now human faces looking worriedly at me. I was breathing heavily. Mickey and Mr. Bohannon were looking at me like I was a mental patient. Mickey was still holding the ladle he used splash me out of my awful state.

"She's alright now," Mr. Bohannon said.

"Should I go tell Mr. Durant?" Mickey asked.

"No," Mr. Bohannon said. "Don't,"

I looked down at my hands that were still a bit shaky. "I'm sorry," was all I could say.

"No need to be sorry now," Mr. Bohannon said in an unusually comforting voice, "war does that to people,"

The last thing I could remember before passing out into a nightmarish sleep was Mr. Bohannon leaving and telling Eva to watch over me that night.


	8. Meals for Many

I awoke to Eva putting cold cloth over my head. I felt a lot better; hungry, but a lot better. An strange attack like that had never happened to me before. I suppose I wasn't prepared for it at all. I looked up at Eva, opening my eyes slightly.

"What're you doin' that for? I ain't sick," I tried to say with a soft smile.

"You got sickness of the mind," she said seriously, "takes a while to heal from it."

I thought about her answer. I suppose she was right. She sat me up and gave me some soup. I thanked her over and over again for helping me until she finally had to tell me to stop thanking her. Before she left I asked her what happened.

"You had an episode of some sort. We was worried you… well we was worried about you is all," she smiled and left.

I got dressed for the day and began looking for medical bag which was missing. I looked all around town for it. I checked the church, the pleasure house, everywhere. Finally Mickey found me and wrapped me up in a warm hug.

"Feelin' better are we?" he said.

"Yeah, I'm fine, I just am looking for all my stuff," I said.

"Oh uh, hmm," Mickey looked down at the ground and shuffled his feet a bit. I looked at him, confused. I didn't say anything but I kept looking at him. I knew he knew where it was and I knew he'd cave in and tell me.

"Oh you're uh, supplies and such, hm?"

I nodded. Finally he shuffled in his shoes again and answered.

"Last I saw, Mr. Bohannon was carryin' the bag,"

He had got to be kidding. I stomped back to my tent. Still feeling a little woozy and dizzy from yesterday. I waited for the workers and Mr. Bohannon to come back. It was dark out by the time I tracked him down. I hated walking through town at night, but I needed my things. He was sitting at the bar, drinking and scowling as he always did. I walked towards him, he didn't look at me but spoke to me anyways.

"Hey 'lil Red. I'd buy you a drink but they don't have any lemonade," he grumbled.

"I'd like my things back," I said.

He finished his drink, stood up, yanked me by my elbow and walked me outside. As soon as we were out the back door I pulled myself away angrily.

"Stop grabbin' me by my elbow!" I said in frustration. "What the hell? What'd I do this time?"

"Nothin'" he said calmly. "You just ain't gonna be patchin' anybody up for awhile,"

"What, why?!" I started to protest and hold my hands out in befuddlement, but he didn't let me get another word in.

"You're things are with Ruth at the church. Now, if and only if I need you in an emergency, I'll tell you. For now I have somethin' else for you to do," he said quickly.

"You're not my boss!" I yelled. I started to walk towards the church tent, but Mr. Bohannon stretched his arm across me and gripped my shoulder. He just looked at me, but with softer eyes. He wasn't scowling anymore.

"Please, just trust me," was all he said.

That night Mr. Bohannon actually sat down with me and talked to me like I was an actual human and not a nuisance. He explained to me that a few cooks had either gone missing, quit, or were killed. He wasn't real specific. So he asked if I knew anything about cooking. I did. Apparently my uncle was too busy with "other problems" to fix this minor one. He wanted me to work right alongside Carl, the bartender, and make some actual edible food.

"Men don't work good unless they're fed good," he said.

At first I was a bit annoyed. I wasn't Mr. Bohannon's personal maid. But, I knew that if I could contribute what I could to the town, that I'd eventually enjoy it. I agreed to convincing my uncle that we needed more produce and groceries, and that I would start the next morning.

Carl was a kind man, who looked a bit like Santa Clause. He was great at serving drinks, but when it came to cooking, well, that was another matter. He started cracking eggs right into a large frying pan and I had to stop him and teach him another way to scramble eggs. He almost burned the bacon to a crisp, and almost cooked the rolls until they were black. He was a quick learner though, and I tried to be as patient as I could.

"What're you doin'?" he asked.

"I'm adding salt, some onion, and a little bit of mustard to these beans. Makes 'em taste so much better," I winked.

He smiled back at me and we continued working early in the morning to get breakfast ready. There were so many people to feed that we ran back and forth through the kitchen until we were exhausted. To our surprise, men started flowing into the place really early with their plates in their hands. The smell of a new and improved breakfast was spreading all across town. I have to admit that I was pretty flattered. Not only did we serve breakfast that morning, but we served tables full of grins and happy stomachs. Compliments kept flowing in. They kept thanking Carl and Carl, in turn, would point at me back by the stoves. I stayed in the back, but I knew Carl was too nice of a man to take all the credit. I was turning more bacon in the back when he tapped me on the shoulder.

"Say, you ain't married are ya?" he asked half jokingly, half not.

"Forget about it, Carl," I smiled. He walked away.

A minute later, in walked familiar footsteps and I heard his familiar voice, there was Mr. Bohannon again. Still scowling, but definitely with a teasing look in his eyes.

"Not bad, Red," he shrugged as he put scooped in a mouthful of beans.

"No. You. Go away," I pointed.

"Wha-" he said with his mouth still full.

"Nope. Go. Go now. Go away."


	9. Mickey

After a few weeks of working as a cook, things started getting rough. Men were going on strike, Indian threats were worse, Ruth's father, a reverend got killed, a Swedish-Norwegian man (I wasn't sure) was arrested then un-arrested, and robbers shot up the town and managed to shoot Uncle Durant. He was sent to Chicago hoping he could be healed, but knowing my luck, I figured he'd probably die like the rest of my family. I admit it was a morbid thought, but it was the age-old curse that befell many unlucky people, everywhere I went, people seemed to die. Meanwhile, Lily and Mr. Bohannon were all fighting and then the next minute all lovey-dovey, and Sean and Ruth were the same way.

The other gossip in town was all about Eva and Mr. Fergason being in love, too, despite the fact that she was married to another man. I was pondering all my silly thoughts while dumping out some dishwater outside. I was bumped into by a very sick looking Eva. She started throwing up whatever breakfast she had just eaten. I ran over to her and held her hair back a bit. When she finally stopped heaving I ran to grab her a bucket of water and a ladle. She took it from me and drank shakily.

"Thanks," she coughed.

I hesitated a bit, "Eva, …Eva are you pregnant?"

She looked up at me surprised. "How did you know?"

"Well, it is morning and yo – I don't know. I guess women just can tell," I smiled. "Congratulations,"

"I wouldn't be congratulatin' me just yet darlin'," she handed me the ladle back and walked away.

It didn't take a long time for me to put the puzzle pieces together in my head and figure out why she was so unhappy. I knew now why they called this place "hell on wheels". It had a way of changing folks and making them do things they would never had done otherwise. All I really knew was that Eva was my friend and if she needed me I'd be there for her just like she was for me. We weren't the best of friends or anything, but she was a good person.

On Sunday mornings, I upgraded my walk to a horse ride. After heaps and heaps of convincing May to wear a saddle, she finally let me sit on her back. Getting her not to buck me off took quite a while too, and I spent plenty of time with my ass in the river water. Mickey had a way of finding me after church out in the field. He ride up along side me and talk with me. Mickey Mcginnes was now managing or owning the pleasure house. I wasn't sure how I felt about that. I had no hard feelings towards him, and didn't judge him at all, but it still made me a bit uneasy. I didn't know how many or even how many times he had been with girl after girl. I wasn't sure what his feelings were for me. I had absolutely no experience with men when it came to romance. In arguments and confrontations – sure, I could handle myself just fine, but no one and nothing prepared me for relationships and what not. My father and my brothers never told me about love or courtship. I had no woman in my life other than neighbors to help me with womanly stuff. I was great at reading and analyzing others' relationships, but when it came to my own feelings, I thought nothing of them. I had no idea how to respond to Mickey, I didn't even have a clue on how to tell if he liked me. I knew our religions were different. I spent too much time thinking about the ways everything could go wrong. I had a hard time just living day by day instead of planning things out.

"You're never in town much anymore," Mickey said a bit sadly.

"No, I guess I'm not," I answered.

"I spose that's a good thing. Not much cheer runnin' through that town," he said.

We rode side by side watching the sunset, which was causing the clouds to turn all pink and blue. It was something I loved about living west, it was lovely every morning and every night, even if it rained. I felt at home out in the open country. I felt like I belonged there, even though it was so big and empty. I was so lost in my thoughts that I didn't notice Mickey reach his hand over to my horse. He placed his large hand on top of mine and squeezed my fingers affectionately. It startled me so much that I jumped a bit, causing May to jump too.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" Mickey said.

I froze. I didn't know what to do. I just sat on my horse and stared wide-eyed at him. He tried to say something but I blurted out, "Oh my gosh, I have to start on dinners and the stove… and well I better go see Carl because, bye!" I kicked my horse and went sprinting back to town leaving Mickey Mcginnes in the dust wondering what had just happened.

The whole event kept replaying in my brain as I cooked. Carl could see how distracted I was, but I couldn't until I burned my finger on the stove.

"Ow!" I yelped as I pitifully stuck my finger in my mouth.

Carl didn't say anything, but he gave me a look of fatherly concern. Across the room of tables, there was Mickey and his brother, Sean. I tried to avoid eye contact with him but I could feel his eyes on me. Finally I decided to look at him. He smiled big and I smiled back and gave a friendly wave with a spatula. I didn't know what to do. In the midst of my own stupid drama, I could see Lily running all around town looking for Mr. Bohannon. She seemed angry and determined to find him. I realized I was being pulled into the awful lovesick-fest and I wanted out. Every single time I saw Lily Bell sit down at a table with Mr. Bohannon, or walk in town beside him, or get in an argument with him that would be loud enough for everyone to hear, my heart sank. I didn't know why my heart fell to my stomach, but I hated the feeling. I had no problem being friends with anyone who was kind. And I knew that Lily was kind – so why couldn't I bring myself to talk to her or even look at her? The "Fair-haired Maiden of the West" was so perfect it seemed. Blonde hair in a perfect up do, her smile, her eyes, just everything about her. She wore pants almost every day and no one said a word about it. I wanted to punch her and be her best friend at the same time.

She was a dainty grown woman, and Mr. Bohannon was a rugged, manly leader. They looked absolutely, ridiculously, perfect together. I saw them together and envied it. I knew it was wrong, at least I thought it was wrong to feel so lonely. I hated feeling lonely. I always shoved it out of my mind. I had myself, and that was enough. Or so I thought. I realized that becoming a woman, and an adult was not as fun as I thought. I knew it wouldn't be a piece of cake, but I didn't expect these awful feelings of… jealousy? Shyness? I didn't know. Lost in my thoughts again and lost in an awkwardly long stare directed at Mrs. Bell, Carl shoved a stack of dirty dishes in my hands and ordered me to wash them. I went to the sink with dishes in hand and uneasiness in my chest.


	10. Strange Encounter with a Swede

A few days later I received an unexpected telegraph.

Dearest Rosanna,

I am writing you very quickly to inform you that your Uncle is alive and recovering. Together we will be arriving to you soon. I sincerely hope that you have kept yourself safe and well. I am also looking forward to catching up with you and hopefully teaching you a few things about proper attire, hairstyles, etc. I know you desperately need a mentor in your unfortunate life. Thomas sends his care and thanks.

Affectionately,

Hannah D.

So my favorite uncle was alive and coming back, along with my least-favorite aunt. Hannah was an awful woman who hated my mother with a passion. My mother was not a real sister to my uncle. His family had taken her in as a young teenager when she left Ireland. When Thomas and Hannah married, she tried to convince my uncle not to let my mother attend the wedding. "An uneducated imp" is what Hannah called my mother. Hannah did not consider me to be real blood related family, although Thomas did love my mother as a sister. Mrs. Durant would be arriving soon, to my dismay, probably with her ever annoying manner, and more ridiculous dresses. I knew she would not approve of me, my tent, my job, or my hairstyle. I dreaded what was about to come.

I ran over to my uncle's office to make sure it was clean and not still covered in blood from his gunshot wound, it was clean, and Lily was leaving the office with a large newspaper in her arm. She smiled at me but I looked away. I felt guilty afterwards. After that I ran over to his car and made sure the bed was made and ready for his and his wife's arrival. I greeted them both as they arrived. Hannah gave me an uncomfortable kiss on either cheek like she was French and immediately looked me up and down as she shook her head. After getting settled in, and getting some medicine to Mr. Durant, Mrs. Durant whisked me away to get me "dressed" for dinner. To my horror she pulled out a corset with lots of lacings. Without asking permission she started putting it on me.

"Aunt Hannah, I uh.. I can't breath!" I choked.

"Il faut souffrir pour etre belle," she grinned, "you must suffer to be beautiful," she clarified. "Wait until you see the dress I have for you tomorrow night. Lily Bell and Mr. Bohannon will be joining us,"

I immediately thought of an excuse. "Oh uh, I can't tomorrow night, I'll be very busy… um… sewing,"

I knew she didn't believe me but she shrugged. "Very well, we will miss you,"

Mrs. Durant got me dressed in French fashion only for a dinner for me and her. My uncle didn't even join us. He was too sick to get out of bed. I excused myself early to leave.

"And where are you going?" Hannah asked.

"I have my own tent in town," I said quietly. I flew out the door before she could say anything nasty or judgmental. As soon as I got to my tent I took off the dress and folded it with the intent to give it back to Mrs. Durant.

The next morning I was informed that Mr. and Mrs. Durant had brought a cook with them from Chicago and I wouldn't be needed anymore. I was sad and relieved at the same time. I wasn't sure what to do with myself so I went back to sleep. I woke up in the early afternoon and headed to the horses to get May. I smiled at Elam Fergason as I walked past him, but he seemed too deep in thought to notice me.

I rode over to a secluded river bank to sit down and have lunch by myself. May grazed in the background while I relaxed in the cool air. Suddenly, a strange voice started speaking. I realized I had no gun, I didn't know how to use a gun, but that I should probably get one. Or a knife. Something.

"In my country, they believe a red haired goddess name Freya lives in Asguard, home of all the gods. She can cry tears of gold, and shake spring flowers out of her hair,"

I whirled around in a fright to see a very tall, lanky, bald man approaching me. It was Mr. Swede.

"Sometimes I wonder if you ride out here alone to shake flowers out of your hair," he continued.

I was speechless. We had never spoken before, and here he was telling me he knew that I rode out here all the time.

"Uh," I stuttered.

He took off his fur hat and politely stuck his hand out for a handshake.

"Oh, uh, Thor Gunderson. We haven't been properly introduced," he smiled warmly as I shook his bloodied hand timidly.

He was the strangest man I'd ever met. He had bruises, scars, and burns all over his body. He seemed to be out of his mind. Maybe he was in so much pain that he wasn't thinking clearly.

"Mr. Gunderson, we need to get you back to town to get you fixed up," I stuttered again, frightened

"That's where I'm headed Ms. Tyler. I just wanted to tell you that I'm sorry," he turned around and began walking.

"Sorry for what?" I shouted. But he didn't answer.

I decided not to return back into town that night. I didn't want to see my aunt or uncle or Lily or Mr. Bohannon. I made camp and tied May to a branch. As I sat staring at the crackling fire pit, I got lost in my thoughts again. There were so many strange people. Irish, black, white from the north, white from the south, people from places I had never heard of before. I didn't belong to anyone, I didn't want to belong to anyone and yet I did. I didn't want to hurt Mickey, or my uncle, and yet I felt hurt by people I hardly knew. I felt so out of place and thought about it for so long that my mind began to crumble. I became sad and scared to the point of crying. I began to sob and soak my blanket with tears. I fell asleep crying, and began to dream of myself crying golden tears with flowers in my hair.


	11. Fire and Smoke

I woke up at dawn with my eyes stuck together from crying so much. For a while I just laid there, looking up at the sky before the sun rose over the mountains. I forced myself to get up, still thinking about my odd encounter with Mr. Gunderson. I walked over to May and gave her half a carrot.

"You're about the only pal I got, ya know that?" I said as she chewed. She looked up and snorted horse snot on my face.

"Thanks."

I arrived back in town only to find Lily walking down the road with a giant suitcase in her hand. I didn't really want to talk to her, but I figured I would try.

"Mrs. Bell?" I asked as I walked up behind her.

She turned around with tears in her eyes and her hat askew. I went over to her and fixed it for her.

"What's the matter?" I looked down at her suitcase.

"Mrs. Durant was in need of my lodgings, so I um, I have to relocate," she sniffled.

"She kicked you out?" I asked in disbelief.

"Shhh shh," she whispered. "it's um, it's fine," her voice cracked.

I bit my lip and swallowed my pride. "Mrs. Bell, my tent has a sturdy floor and room enough for two. It's warm and I make great hot chocolate. You're welcome to stay with me. I don't bite," I half smiled.

"Oh my! That's, oh, that's very kind of you –"

Lily was cut off by Mr. Bohannon's very interruptive way of speaking.

"Mrs. Bell's gonna be staying in my car and I'll be staying with Mr. Fergason tonight," he stated firmly.

Lily looked bewildered as if she wasn't sure what to do. Mr. Bohannon looked me sternly in the eye. I spoke up.

"Well, my door is always open if you need anything Lily,"

"Thank you," she hugged me.

I didn't like being hugged. But I patted her back awkwardly. Mr. Bohannon led her to his car and walked hurriedly back to me.

"That was nice of ya, Red," he said as he walked beside me. "I'm not sure what to do about her. She won't leave even though it ain't safe here,"

"Well, I want you both to know that I've offered Mrs. Bell a lovely job in New York as a respectable governess," Mrs. Durant cut in. "She should be leaving very, very soon,"

We both looked over at her. I was glaring.

"And aren't you just the sweetest thing? Offering for her to stay in your little mud tent," she said offensively.

"You kicked her out," I said defensively. "You're kicking her out, and she doesn't want to leave,"

"It's not up to her, darling," my aunt said.

"It's not up to her? It's her life! You're awful, you know that?" I said shakily.

"You're speaking out of line, young lady," my aunt was trying to gain control over the situation like she always did. "You're just like your mother, always meddling in places where you aren't supposed to be. Always getting in the way of more important things. Same unruly attitude, same unruly, ridiculous hair. I've said it to her, and now I'll say it to you: your life would be best spent whoring and sleeping with men who only had to see you once!"

She glared at me thinking she had won. But once she saw the look on my face and my arm swing backwards, she frowned in horror.

I slapped her across her right cheekbone so hard that she lost balance and fell on her hip. There was Mrs. Durant sitting in the mud, and my anger was boiling over the edge. I was breathing heavily, not satisfied enough with just slapping her. I lunged to get on top of her and beat her senseless, but Mr. Bohannon caught me before I could and carried me away.

He sat me down on my cot.

"Alright now, easy, calm down. Don't go slappin' me now, you'll regret it," he said as he put his hands on my shoulders. "I gotta go take care of that Swede. Stay here and stay outta trouble," he warned.

After he left, I just sat in my tent and ate. I just sat on my cot and ate carrots and apples and rolls and whatever else I could get my hands on. I had just slapped Mrs. Durant across the face. My uncle would disown me, I would have to go back to the hospital, or become a seamstress. I began to cry. Maybe my aunt was right. Maybe I should just be a whore until I die. What else did the world have to offer me? I wasn't a proper lady like Lily. I wasn't brave or experienced like Eva. I was nothing.

I fell asleep for hours, and awoke to the sound of screaming. I peeked outside my tent. Other tents were being set ablaze. People were being shot down by arrows. There was no time for me to think. I took off the dress I was wearing and put on pants, a long sleeved shirt and a long leather jacket I had for the winter. I grabbed a bag and stuffed it with whatever was around me. I ran outside my tent and ducked down low and ran past burning tents until I got to the livery. I untied all the horses until I got to May. She was scared, and so was I. I had no gun, I didn't even have a knife. I saddled up May and suddenly changed my mind about leaving. I told May to wait for me.

"I must be crazy," I whispered to myself.

I ducked down and ran back the way I came through the chaos and grabbed as many women and men as I could and told them to follow me. A group and I crawled our way back to the horses and saddled up. I told them all to ride away in the opposite direction as fast as they could. I didn't really give them a choice but they listened anyway. The group of survivors and I rode into a safe spot and stared dumbfounded at our town that was burning in the distance.

I didn't sleep. The sun rose and the fire turned to smoke. I told the rest of the survivors to leave, many of them did, a few rode back to town with me. I felt like a coward. I expected everyone to be dead. A handful were alive and wandering through town. Then I saw it.

Mr. Bohannon was carrying Lily in his arms. She was lifeless with bruises around her neck. He carried her all the way to the church. He looked defeated, which was a look I had never seen him wear before.

I grabbed a bucket of water and went to a group of coughing survivors who were covered in dirt and soot.

"Where's Mr. Durant?" I asked sadly.

"Mr. Durant has been arrested for embezzlement – among other crimes," one of them said despairingly. "He and his wife are gone."

I saw Mr. Bohannon walking through what was left of the town. It had been almost completely scorched, with only a few building frames left standing. He left with Mr. Gunderson and a rope, and came back empty handed. I couldn't bear to look at him. I couldn't bear to look at anything. Everything was gone. Again. No Lily, no aunt or uncle, no friends.

In the late afternoon I saw Mr. Bohannon again. He stopped in the middle of the street and looked over at me. Slowly, he stepped over the dry dirt and burnt bodies until he was standing in front of me.

"You ain't dead are ya?" He asked as if he were talking to a ghost.

"No, I don't think so," I said softly.

He put both hands on my shoulders and looked in my eyes. He didn't say a word but he gripped my shoulders firmly.

"Go," he said and shook me out of my daze. He turned and walked away.

And that was the last I saw of Mr. Bohannon. I knew I'd never see him again.


	12. Back to Work

4 MONTHS LATER

"Tyler!" an angry voice screamed from the front desk. "This gentleman dresses to the left! Not the right!"

I rolled my eyes and sighed. After being seated at a sewing machine all day, I stretched my legs forward, stood up, and cracked my back. There was my boss, yelling at me as usual. I was one of the only seamstresses in town, and he always had me making and altering the fancy business suits. What did he know? All he had to was wear funny glasses and measure people. I trudged forward into the front room to stop the yelling.

"Jim, that suit is for the man who's coming in tomorrow, I ain't done with the other ones yet,"

"Take this," he ordered as he threw a pile of heavy cloth into my arms. "Where's the suit that's done?"

I pointed with my toe, seeing as my arms were so full. "Right there," I muffled from under the clothes. I couldn't see where I was going, but I started turning around to towards the back room. Just then the doors opened. I turned faster to get out of their way, I was shuffling to the back when a voice stopped me in my tracks. I couldn't believe it. There was no way.

"Red?"

I froze.

"Red!"

I unfroze my legs and walked faster. "He didn't see me, I'm not here, hide, hide!" I whispered to myself. I got to the back room and set the pile of clothes down on a table. I sighed in relief and turned around only to bump my face yet again on the buttons of Mr. Bohannon's vest. He didn't say anything, he just looked down at me and grinned a bit. I could see Elam down the hallway getting measured.

"Everyone said you were dead!" I blurted out.

He ignored my comment, seeing as it wasn't true and walked around. He walked past the sewing machines and picked up a scrap of material. He wadded it up and placed it on his ear.

"You work here now?" He asked.

"I had to go somewhere," I answered.

"Hm." He glanced around some more, stopped walking and put his hand on his hip. "Well, you should know, I dress to the left," Without another work he tipped hat, he and Elam each picked a suit and walked out. No explanation, no conversation, nothing.

Well he wasn't dead. That was good I guess. I walked towards the front of the building and saw them walk down the road to a hotel when I realized there were little drops of blood from Mr. Bohannon's ear. I grabbed a rag and began cleaning the floor, deciding whether or not to find him and talk to him, or ignore it altogether.

I thought about it all day. What was he doing? I knew he had invested his whole heart and soul into that railroad. Part of me didn't understand why he even cared at all, but the other part of me understood his longing to have purpose. After all he had lost, maybe he just wanted to see something through to the end for once in his life.

I grabbed a small back of medical supplies and walked down to the hotel. I smiled at the owner, who knew me well. "Where's the hairy one and his negro friend staying?"

"Upstairs," he pointed.

I smiled again and walked up to the first floor. I walked down the hall and felt warm steam coming through the second door. Without knocking I turned the doorknob and walked in. Mr. Bohannon was sitting in a tub with his back towards me. He didn't see me come in but I could see his ear still bleeding. I grabbed a stool and slammed it down next to the metal bathtub. Mr. Bohannon suddenly was jolted out of his relaxation; his eyes flew open as he gasped and looked up to see what the hell was going on. Finally he saw me standing there and began yelling.

"Get the hell outta here! I'm.. I'm, I'm in the nude! Get, get, get, away! Go!" he said while splashing water at me while attempting to cover himself.

"Do I look like I give a damn?" I answered calmly.

I sat down and pulled out a need and some thread. I grabbed the side of his head and pushed it backwards.

"Ugh," he grumbled as he gave up and let me look at his ear.

After looking at it for a bit, I could see that it was no cut. Whatever had bit him or sliced him had taken off a chunk.

"Did you even clean this?" I asked a bit rudely.

"I'm tryin' to clean in now!" he yelled.

"O.K. this is gonna hurt," I ignored him as I poured alcohol on it, letting it spill over into the bath.

Mr. Bohannon clenched his teeth together and sucked air in. As quick as I could I pushed the wound closed with two fingers and sewed it up with only a few stitches. I couldn't help but chuckle to myself as Mr. Bohannon tried not to squirm. He was like a girl getting her ears pierced.

"Now you won't bleed all over the floor," I said as I put away my needle.

I stood up and splashed water into his eyes. Annoyed, he grunted and wiped his eyes. As I was walking out the door he shouted at me.

"Red!"

"You're welcome!" I called back.

Is I walked down the steps I could hear him- absolutely infuriated as he stomped out of the bathtub with wet feet, letting water slosh all over the floor as he cursed loudly. I laughed.

That night I went to sleep where I always did. At my workplace, because it's where I lived. And I usually spent all night working on dresses and pants anyways.

"I've done my good deed for the day, and everything is settled with me and that hairy guy. I don't have to worry about it anymore," I told myself as I shut my eyes.

However, my peaceful slumber met a terrifying end when a cold splash of ice water arose me from my sleep.

I yelped, sprung up, and started wiping at my face.

He was laughing. Obnoxiously. With the glass cup still in his hand. I was so tired I didn't even have the energy to glare at him. I just looked up at him from the ground like a sad, wet puppy. He was still laughing. I was mad, yes, but I had also never seen him smile before.

"Good morning, Mr. Bohannon, you son of a –"

"Red, get packed up, we're leavin' in a bit," he said as he threw a dry hand towel at me.

I caught it and look up at him, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. "Packed for what?"

"Railroad needs someone who can sew and someone who can cook. You can do both, let's go," He turned and walked out the door, leaving me sopping wet and miserable.

I hated his authoritativeness, but I couldn't disobey it, I started packing up a small trunk. I guess I was headed back to the railroad. I now had new, clean dresses that I made from extra material that I could bring with me. The only thing that didn't fit in the trunk was my favorite frying pan. But I couldn't leave it behind, so I just held on to it.

Mr. Bohannon arrived in the late afternoon to come get me, even though I told him I could just meet them on the train.

"You 'bout ready yet?" he shouted as he walked in.

"I'm ready!" I said excitedly as I held my trunk and frying pan up.

He looked down and shook his head in disapproval.

"What? Don't you judge me. The pan didn't fit in the trunk. And that is a stupid hat," I said as I walked passed him and knocked his hat off with the handle of my frying pan.

Mr. Bohannon grumbled and bent down to grab his stupid-round-bowler hat. We walked down the dirt road and got Elam. The train was pulling in, loud and earthquake-y. My heart started pounding. I was getting out of here. I'd be on my way west, and maybe I'd see the Pacific ocean. We got aboard the train and I refused to let Mr. Bohannon help me with my trunk. After some issues with seating Elam and us, we got settled in. The train began to move and suddenly I turned into a 5 year old. I gasped and got up with my frying pan still in hand. I ran outside the train car and held onto the railing, letting the wind hit my face. Suddenly, I saw my boss, Jim running towards the train with his measuring tape still on his neck.

"WHERE ARE GOING?!" he shouted as loudly as he could while gasping and running.

"Where does it look like I'm going!?" I yelled back and waved.


	13. Luke 8:17

Before I knew it we were back to work. All of us, that is. Sean and Mickey were back, Eva and Elam had a new baby, and even Ruth Cole, the church lady came along. We were busy. Very busy. Setting up a new camp, and dealing with land issues. Of course, my uncle was now in jail, and I didn't know what would happen to him. I wrote to him often, he seldom replied. I just never wrote to him that I was back working for Mr. Bohannon. I figured he wouldn't be too happy about that. I didn't want him to have a heart attack in jail.

Our little camp was getting so much attention that a newspaper lady even came to stay. Louise Ellison was not like Lily Bell was, nor was she a whore. But she did strut around like she was above everyone else, but she just called it "getting a good look to write the most accurate story." I tried several times to introduce myself to her, but she always just walked right on past me. Thankfully I didn't have to get in a fight with her because few days after she came to town I saw her with a big old bruise on her eye. Apparently someone else had done that for me. I chuckled to myself as she followed Mr. Bohannon around, right on his heel, asking him question after question. She wore a funny looking flat-topped hat and nice dresses. In a way I was jealous of her. She was a successful, pretty woman, who had turned herself into a well-known journalist, and was truly trying to be tough. I had to admire her for that. But I also knew what kind of town we were in, and she didn't. She would write down every happenstance that occurred – good or bad – in her own way, with her own views. And that was dangerous. The public people could cause serious damage if they thought the railroad was bad news.

I got so busy mending tents, stitching pants, and sewing shirts that I didn't see Mr. Bohannon, Eva, or Elam for weeks. Mr. Bohannon was constantly having to deal with problems. He spent a day or too at a home owned by Mr. Hatch. As usual, the whole situation went south. A chief of police got shot, and a boy hanged. I knew the whole this was wrong, and I knew Ms. Ellison would write it all down.

During all that time, Mickey, who was getting rather distant from his brother, was always asking me to help out his "girls." His girls were the prostitutes of the town. He had given up trying to make sheep's eyes at me, and I understood why. I was a hard person to love. But that didn't matter. He was still kind to me and payed me for bringing medicines and ice to the girls that worked for him. They were tough girls – they had to be. But even the toughest girls could only take so much. A girl my age, my own age, was very sick and bleeding. Mickey, who claimed "he had to run a business" kicked her out of the place. I gave her as much money as I could spare, and so did Eva, but it didn't really make me feel any better.

As Eva and I watched her leave with her boyfriend, Ruth came up behind us. I knew she would say something cruel, and she did.

"Proverbs 23:27. 'For a prostitute is like a deep pit; a harlot is like a narrow well. Indeed, she lies in wait like a robber, and increases the unfaithful among men.'"

Ruth ended her quote with a solemn voice and bowed her head to the ground. Eva and I look at each other in disgust and turned towards her. Eva looked angry, like she was about to slap her, but suddenly tears welled up in her eyes. How could Ruth say that? After knowing what Eva had been through? And now that she was a mother and wife, bringing up her past hurt her badly. Eva turned away, crying with her face in her hands. Ruth didn't feel bad at all.

"Do you see Rosanna? It brings nothing but heartache and ruin," she said sadly.

I stared forward, watching Eva run to her tent. Eva was not ruined. She had a beautiful baby, and a loving man. But all Ruth saw was dirt beneath her feet. I stood for a moment and tried to calm myself down. I knew I couldn't hit a church lady. I also knew that Ruth was truly kind at heart, and meant well, but her self-righteousness struck a nerve with me that I couldn't brush off.

"Ruth, you've been religious your whole life, yes?"

She nodded.

"And you know who Christ is?"

"Of course,"

"Then you know that his message was love and acceptance, right?" I asked.

"Yes, but that doesn't mean that she hasn't committed a sin and that obviously she is now being punished for it, the Lord has no tolerance for promiscuity," Ruth said indignantly.

"And when will the punishment for your sins come?" I asked.

"My sins?" She asked, appalled.

"How dare you judge that poor girl. I thought you of all people would know that it's not your job to judge others. And how dare you say something like that to Eva,"

"Wha-" she began to protest.

I cut her off before she could.

"Luke 8:17 'For all that is secret will eventually be brought into the open, and everything that is concealed will be brought to light and made know to all,'" I quoted.

She just stared at me in horror, realizing that not only me, but the entire town knew about her and her past. She began to look sad, also realizing that no one in town had shunned her for her "sins." She was not perfect, and now she finally knew it. I walked away without another word.

Just as I entered my tent, Eva was running out of hers, screaming.

"Someone took my baby girl!"

I rushed out of my tent, frantically thinking about where the baby could be. Everyone else was doing the same thing. Everything seemed to be turning bad. Even the weather was grey and ominously rolling in. Eva, Elam and Mr. Bohannon were yelling at the top of their lungs, Elam grabbed an Irish man and accusing him of kidnapping his baby, and everyone was watching. I decided not to join the crowd, but to actually start searching for the kid.

As I was running down another road I saw a fine-looking carriage. My uncle stepped out and saw me.

"Rosanna! How are you, young lady?"

I ran up to greet him and ask him what he was doing here, and he probably wanted to know what I was doing there as well. But first he addressed my sweaty, frantic state.

"What's happened?" he asked.

"Eva's baby is missin'. We think someone took her," I gasped.

"That's horrible!" he said. "Is this how things are now that Bohannon is in charge?"

I didn't know what to say.

"Are you angry with me?" I asked.

"No. Keep searching for the child," my uncle said as he patted my shoulder.

I kept running around, looking under tables, bursting into tents – the baby wasn't anywhere. I even hurt my uncle offer up a reward for whoever could find the baby, hopefully in an effort to get whoever kidnapped Eva's baby to return her. The men in town were angry. Some because a storm was about to happen, and others because they wanted to find the baby. Mr. Bohannon said we needed to start packing so we could leave before we got washed out and flooded by the rain. But I knew we weren't going anywhere until the baby was back. He and Elam left to go track down whoever they thought took the child. I wasn't going to stop looking, either.

I ran into the church tent, where Ruth was sitting comfortably, clearly not wanting to help look.

"What are you doing?" she barked at me.

I looked under benches and walked into her room in the back of the church without asking and turned over her bed sheets.

"How dare yo-"

I stormed over to her and walked towards her until she tripped over a bench and landed on her butt.

"If this is your way of delivering "God's Punishment" to an innocent woman, you'd better tell me now," I got down on the ground and hovered over her, threateningly glaring into her eyes. "Do you have the baby?"

She shook her head side to side.

"N..n…no," she shivered.

I believed her. I grabbed her hand and helped her up to her feet. She brushed of her dress, still shaking. I ran outside and kept looking.

I didn't get a wink of sleep that night. Eva's baby was the only baby in town, and the only baby some of us had seen in years. The whole lot of us cared about her.

The next morning, after going on a horse ride with May to search, I returned empty handed, but Elam didn't. It was about dawn, and in rode a happy, victorious father. Eva ran to them and cradled her baby in her arms. The happy family was crying together.

That afternoon, Eva visited me at my tent.

"Thank you. For all your help," she said.

"Don't thank me, just let me hold her!" I laughed.

Eva handed me the little girl. She was beautiful.

"Have you thought of any name?" I asked.

"Elam wants to name her Rose," Eva said giving me a wink.

"What! Really? Aw. I have to admit that is a great name choice," I said handing the baby to her mother.

We both walked outside of my tent, strolling along and chatting, when I saw my uncle get off the train with a bunch of soldiers and Louis Ellison, the journalist. I knew it was bad news.

"Who's that with Mr. Durant?" Eva said as she looked over at them.

"I..I think that's General Grant,"


	14. Jasper Prescott

My uncle sat across from me, eating his supper, but mostly deep in thought. My hand trembled as I grabbed the fork in front of me. Ulysses S. Grant and other important men from the board of who-knows-what company were all sitting at the same table as me. I had reluctantly put on a dress for the occasion and planned to get the night over with as soon as possible. Mr. Durant wanted me to tell everyone about all the good the railroad would do for the country and all the good he could do for the railroad. It was his way of granting me a pardon for working with Mr. Bohannon. Apparently he was planning on taking everything back, which, to me seemed like an awfully difficult task. I had no idea how Mr. Durant was going to take his railroad back. I didn't even fully understand how he got out of jail. However, I was happy to sit there and look pretty, even though I knew I did not belong at that table.

Throughout the night a few of the men asked me simple questions to which I replied with a soft answer. General Grant gave me a wink or two and I didn't know how to interpret that. After the dinner was over I stopped my uncle to talk to him.

"So, Aunt Hannah left?"

"Yes," he said plainly, "My wife has left me," he sort of chuckled and looked down at me.

"I'm sorry," I replied.

"No need to be sorry," he said. "Everything is looking up,"

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Look around you, Rose. I have great men supporting me and the next president of the United States on my side," he grinned.

"Lucky you," I laughed.

"I make my own luck, sweetheart,"

My uncle gave me a kiss on the head and grabbed his pocket watch. It was time for me to get back to my own little home and be by myself for a while. It was a very, very hot summer night and people were starting to get sick. I made sure to boil all the water I used before I drank it. The nights and days were almost unbearably hot but I didn't mind. It was a calm sort of summer heat that made me feel like everything was alright for a bit.

I said goodbye to my uncle and General Grant and made my way home. I decided to take a long walk and enjoy the dress my uncle had shipped in for me. It was an off-white soft and wispy gown that flowed beautifully whenever I walked. The little dark blue patterns all over the dress spun magically if I twirled around. I was dizzily letting myself get caught up in the night time and the sound of crickets and the allure of my dress that I wasn't on guard. I shouldn't have been walking along the rails at night alone, and it was a decision I would soon regret.

I could feel the expression in my cheeks turn from a slight smile to a horrified scream. I tried to yell for help, but I couldn't. A crushingly strong hand was keeping my mouth gagged with a cloth and another crushingly strong arm grabbed my waist from behind. I kept trying to scream but it was muffled by the hand that was almost covering my entire face. I began to thrash and kick as my entire body was lifted off the ground. Someone was grabbing me, and it wasn't funny. I kept praying it was a joke that Sean or Mickey was pulling on me. I kept hoping that they would let me go and I would hear them laughing. But I didn't. I figured out it was no joke when my attacker grabbed me by my ponytail and slammed my forehead against a train car. My ears were ringing and my eyes went fuzzy from the impact. My attacker hadn't said anything, he hadn't demanded money or expressed any anger; he was as silent as a grave. My head hit the train car again with a whack. I could feel blood flowing out of my nostrils and black spots began showing up through the blur I was seeing. With his hand still on my face, covering my mouth, my attacker spun me around to face him. His nose and mouth were covered with a bandana, but I looked right into his eyes. He didn't look angry, or upset, he looked rather calm, maybe a bit frustrated, but other than that I didn't recognize him at all. As soon as my eyes met his, my vision became a little clearer. I gathered my wits and swung my knee up to hit him between the legs. He grunted and pulled my hair hard. His eyes met mine again. Now he was angry. In a swift motion he kicked my legs out from underneath me and I landed with a smack on the railroad ties. My head slammed against the metal, but I wasn't concerned about my head at this point.

He was on top of me. He hadn't stopped to kick me or beat me, he hadn't pulled out his gun to shoot me, he didn't try to steal anything from me. He just knelt down and got on top of me. To my horror I could hear as clear as a bell as he ripped my dress from my shoulders and bit my neck. I could hear his awful breath as his face came closer to mine. He began to breathe harder as I felt his hand slip up my dress and rip out more fabric that was in his way. His other hand still covered my mouth and I struggled to get oxygen in through my nose. My eyes blurred with tears and I could feel them running down the sides of my face. My attempts at screaming had now just turned into pathetic whines and whimpers. He paused from ripping my dress for a few moments to take my face with both his hands and force a kiss onto my bleeding lips, he covered them again quickly before I could make a sound. He took his belt off with one hand and hit the side of my head with the metal. I felt I was going to pass out any moment, but my fear kept me awake. He used his belt to tie my hands together above my head and shoved the cloth in my mouth as a gag. Now he had both hands free as he gripped my ribcage with his knees. He pulled his bandana off his face and smiled. I still didn't recognize him. I had never seen him before. He had a handsome face, but it was marred by the evil look in his eyes. He pulled my ripped skirt up higher and unbuttoned his pants. I was crying too hard to see if anyone was around to help. And then it happened. I can't say it was the most horrible thing that had happened to me. I did lose my family and see people die, but physically, this was the worst thing that had ever happened to me. Each thrust hurt a little more, each time his heavy body came down onto my chest I felt as if I'd black out, but I didn't. He didn't stop for a long time, and I could almost feel him in my abdomen. I could feel myself about to throw up, and that's when my body finally had enough. My eyes rolled back and my body went limp.

When I finally came to, my hands were untied but my wrists were bleeding, as well as my nose and my lip. The sky was still dark blue, but dawn was about to come. I tried to sit up when I heard a deafening gunshot. I quickly lied back down and peeked under the train car. There was my attacker lying dead with a gunshot through his forehead. The man who killed him was still standing as I could see his boots walk away. I didn't know who had killed him but I thought whoever it was would come and get me. But he didn't. No one knew where I was. No one knew what had happened to me, and now my rapist was dead on the ground and I didn't even get to kill him. Who was he? And why did he do this to me?

Needless to say I was in shock. I could barely sit up without pain. I didn't know if I could walk. I knew I needed to get up and get back to my tent before the sun came up and people started boarding the train to get to work. My uncle could never know about this, no one could. I crawled under the train car slowly, and painfully until I got to my attacker. Blood was still oozing out of his forehead and the back of his head. I patted him down to make sure he didn't have anything of mine. His gun was still on his belt with the hammer cocked. I took it out carefully and inspected it. It wasn't a very impressive gun, but it had the one thing on it that I never wanted to know: his name. Jasper Prescott.

I gathered up the gun and its holster and my dress and limped back into town. The pain was something I had never felt before, and I could tell I wouldn't be able to hide it. The only one out this early was one of the prostitutes. She ran over to me and grabbed me before I fell over. She led me inside the whorehouse and yelled for Eva. As I knew she would, Eva came running over. I didn't have to say anything, she could tell just by looking at me what had happened.

"Who done this!?" she demanded.

I just shook my head. I couldn't speak. Eva was not shy about taking my dress of and inspecting the damage. She assured me that nothing was torn or bleeding too much. She led me to the back and helped me wobble into a bath. I didn't even care that I was naked, I just wanted to wash myself off.

"Eva," I whispered, "Eva, no one can know about this. No one. Not Elam, not Mr. Bohannon, not Mr. Durant, not Elam – nobody. Nobody can know,"

She nodded her head and rung out a washcloth. Before the sun came all the way out, Eva dressed me in a nightgown and got me over to my tent. I thanked her, but she couldn't bear to look at me.

"Eva, he's dead," I said right before she left.

"Dead how?"

I shrugged. "He got shot. His body is still down by the tracks,"

Without another word Eva left my tent, crying. I didn't want her to go, but I wasn't going to make her stay with me, either. I sat on my bed for a while until I heard my uncle calling for me.

"Rosanna?"

I could hear him approaching my tent. Quickly, I grabbed my tattered dress and the gun and opened up my trunk, brushing my thumb over the inscribed name: Jasper Prescott. I wrapped it up and threw it in the trunk. No one could know. And I wanted to forget.


	15. Murky Water

I didn't leave my tent for two days. I couldn't walk comfortably. Eva came in to check on me during meal times and filled in for my absence with the cook. She came into my tent with a bowl of unappetizing looking soup.

"Why's it taking you so long to get back up on your feet?" she asked a little insensitively.

"I ain't never been with a man before," I answered.

Her eyes widened a bit. I knew she felt sorry for me. Even as a whore, rape was still a horrible thing. It would be different if it was my first time with someone I cared about. But having it be my first time in that way was something that even the most promiscuous whores cringed at.

"Tell me some good news," I sighed as I sat down on my bed.

"Well, I'm engaged," Eva said.

That was good news for her. But I was still too selfishly stuck in a state of self-pity that I couldn't really even pretend to be happy for her. I felt something drip down the back of my neck. I patted my hair. It was blood.

"Shit," I swore as I looked at my fingertips.

Eva whirled me around and looked at the back of my neck.

"Yep, that needs to be sewn up. Too bad you can't see back there, you'd probably do a better job than me," Eva said as she grabbed a needle.

"Just – be careful – please," I hesitated.

Stingingly, Eva stitched up the wound in the back of my neck and thankfully didn't ask about details on how it got there. She understood I didn't want to talk about it. And I was grateful for that.

A good week went by and I pretended like nothing ever happened. Nobody said anything about the dead Mr. Prescott, and I went on with work like my happy little self, even though I was still hurting. I found comfort in visiting May, even though I wasn't able to go on rides with her for a while. May became impatient from standing around all day that I ended up just going on walks with her instead. During the day, of course. One morning we stopped underneath some shade near a river bank. I was trying to explain to her what had happened to me, but she didn't seem to care. May found it funny to use her heavy neck to shove me over into a river, or worse, mud. Our walk turned into a week long camping trip due to cholera back at camp. We went miles out in search for clean water and peace of mind. We returned to new, fresh water and a lot of dead bodies.

"Where have you been?" Mr. Bohannon called out from behind me.

I jumped. "Um, I went on a camping trip. Where've you been?"

He laughed as if I had asked the stupidest question he had ever heard.

I looked him up and down, he looked a little tired and sick, but seemed to be doing better now that fresh water was coming into town. He looked me up and down, I was covered in ash and dirt.

"Well, you should get yourself to a bath,"

I glared at him. "Will do," I said sarcastically.

Teasingly, he grabbed my braid and tugged on it as he walked away. I gasped in pain and clutched the back of my neck. Thanks to Mr. Bohannon, my wound had re-opened. I walked May over to the stables and got a bath ready for myself.

The sun was going down and I had boiled water for the tub. It took a long time, but the end result was relaxing and well worth it. My wrists and arms still had some bruises but they were healing fine. I took my hair out from its braid and tried to run my fingers through it. It was crusted in dirt. I plugged my nose and dipped down under the water letting my hair soak for a minute. When I came up for air the water was pink. I touched the back of my neck. Bleeding again.

"Dammit," I whispered.

I wiped the water off my eyes and realized someone was standing there. I saw pants and boots and that was enough to make me scream.

"Whoa there! Boy, you sure get frightened easy now-a-days, Red," Mr. Bohannon smirked. He didn't understand.

"Get out! Get outta here! I'm naked!" I yelped.

"Do I look like I give a damn?" he said smugly, echoing my words.

He pulled up a milking stool and sat behind me. I was shaking. I was pretty sure I could trust him, but I was still scared. I was vulnerable, intimidated, and timid. Everything I told myself I would never be.

"The water cold?" he asked.

"No,"

"Hm,"

He pulled out a needle and thread and parted my wet hair. He shoved my head forward and told me to look down. He began sewing up the wound. I didn't flinch. The water was murky enough that I knew he couldn't see my body or the bruises.

"What happened here?"

I hesitated slightly then covered up with a smooth lie.

"May bucked me off,"

He didn't answer. I hoped he believed me. A few minutes went by in awkward silence. I knew I shouldn't have asked but my curiosity got the better of me. I had to know.

"Did you hear anythin' about that man who got shot about a week ago? I think his name was Prescott or somethin'"

Mr. Bohannon grabbed me by my jaw from behind and turned my face towards his.

"How do you know bout that?" he demanded angrily.

"I just… I just heard he came to town and didn't stay long," I whimpered.

"Who told you that?" he was becoming more upset.

"I… I don't remember,"

Mr. Bohannon was becoming more and more visibly flustered. He stood up in a huff.

"You better get some control over that damn horse," he grumbled and stormed off.

I was shaking in the now luke warm waters of the tub, regretting I had mentioned it at all. I think I had found my attacker's killer.


	16. The Dare

I went to help cook dinners for the workers that night and pretended again like everything was alright. Dinner went smoothly, all the way up until the end. The investigator that had been questioning my uncle stepped in and stood by the bar. I was in the back, cleaning up and trying to avoid eye contact. Then I heard him snapping his fingers at me.

"You there! Miss! Yes, I need a drink, please," he ordered.

I was not a bartender, nor did I appreciate being snapped at, but I put down my rag and walked over. I grabbed him a small glass and poured him whatever it was that he asked for. He gulped it down and sighed. He looked rather sad, and overworked.

"Long day?" I asked meekly, trying to make small talk.

"Young man got shot today. In the damn chapel of all places," he said.

"Who?"

"Some Irish kid. Tried to choke a woman or somethin'. Another please,"

I froze for a moment. The Mcginnes brothers. What on earth had happened to get one of them shot? It seemed like just as everything was about to calm down, something else horrible had to happen. Just as I was lost in thought Mickey sulked in. He looked like something was the matter with him, but he didn't exactly look sad. Considering what had happened, he didn't look broken down at all. He walked behind the bar and took the bottle in my hands from me. I didn't know what to say. I didn't have any words. But he just gently took the bottle and softly told me to head home. I understood how he was feeling. Not wanting to talk about details and reasons and explanations of bad times. I gave him a nod, took off my apron, and headed home like he asked me to.

It was about to be sunset, and I quickened my pace. On the chapel steps there sat Ruth Cole and Mr. Bohannon. She was sobbing violently and he had his arm comfortingly around her.

"He's a good man," I thought to myself.

While it was true that it was rather obnoxious how he had to be in the center of the railroad, the town, and the drama of the both, he was still a man full of integrity. Everyone knew that Mr. Bohannon's word was stronger than anything else.

I made it to my tent safe. I still got shaky whenever I walked by myself, but I was almost accustomed to it by then. I was in a dangerous town where people got shot and punched, among other things. Thinking back on the days before my "accident" had happened, I began to get angry. I threw open my trunk and dug to the bottom where I had placed the blood stained dress. I grabbed it by the seams and began to rip and tear, letting all my frustration rage through my limbs.

I grabbed 3 pieces of wood from a pile near my small garden and started a fire. A large one. Piece by piece I threw scraps of fabric into the flames, letting the dress burn. Doing all this didn't fix how I was feeling, but it helped a little bit. I was staring at the flickering orange flames when Mr. Bohannon came walking by my tent leading a mule with his left hand.

"You're a good man, Mr. Bohannon," I said out loud without really meaning to, and without looking up.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"The way you were comforting Ruth earlier. It's nice how you care about the town,"

"I do care about people in the town," he said walking towards me.

"Ruth's a pretty good actress, though. I don't know how much of that sobbin' was genuine,"

Mr. Bohannon looked a little appalled.

"Her beau got shot and killed!"

"He was never her beau," I corrected him. "She played him like a game. She dangled herself in front of him and never let him have it. Would've drove me crazy if I were him, too,"

Mr. Bohannon's mouth gaped open.

"So, that's why I'm sayin' it was so nice of you to comfort her. She really looked sad,"

"She was sad!" he protested.

"That mule's ankle is sprained," I said changing the subject.

"Oh, God here we go," he rolled his eyes.

"You know how to fix it?" I asked.

He didn't answer. I got up and began walking with him to the stables. It was dark now, but I felt safe in the company of him. I wasn't scared anything bad could happen to me. When we got to the small barn he grabbed a couple of lanterns and lit them, making the room glow softly. He hung one up above the mule's stall. I knelt down in the hay to get a good look at the swollen leg.

"It's actually not too bad," I said. "As long as he doesn't walk for a few days, the swelling should go down,"

Mr. Bohannon gave me nod of approval. I got up and grabbed a bucket of feed for May. She neighed as I waltzed over to her. I was smiling for the first time in weeks. I felt like everything was okay. There was a cool breeze, but it was still warm. May was happy to see me and let me pet her face. Mr. Bohannon walked up behind me. A little too close. I had put my hair up in a messy red bun to stay cool and I could feel his breath on my neck.

"You know when I first met you I thought you really didn't like me at all," he said softly.

I turned around and awkwardly shlumped my shoulders and stepped back.

"I didn't. I still don't like you. Never will," I smiled and winked.

He laughed, showing his smile. It was only about the second or third time I had ever seen it. Then came the awkward silence. We just sort of looked at each other. Neither of us really sure what the other was thinking. After about a minute of cringe-worthy silence, he cleared his throat.

"Ruth and Sean were never…uh.. together, then?"

I shook my head and laughed. "No, of course not! It's obvious who she really wants to be with."

He raised one eyebrow.

"You. She wants you, Mr. Bohannon," I said.

"My name's Cullen," he frowned. "And that ain't… well that ain't true,"

I raised one eyebrow back at him.

"You're really gonna go ahead and just assume that you know that? Just like you assume that you know everything else in the world?"

I furrowed my eyebrows together in confusion. He wasn't in a laughing mood anymore suddenly.

"Really? You just know?" he continued. "Can you explain to me why you think you can just assume you know better than everyone else? You have got to be the most insufferable woman I've ever met. And I've met plenty of women!"

I mockingly applauded him. The echoes of my condescending claps filled the quiet barn.

"You know what? I'll say it to your face. You wanna joke around and act tough like a man? Then I'm gon talk to you like a man. You are as fiery as your hair and as feisty as the ridiculous curls on your head. You don't run this town, alright? You can act all sweet to everyone else, but I know how annoying you really are," he took off his hat and pointed at me with it.

"And what about you?" I asked.

"Hm?"

"What about you? Do YOU run this town? Of course you do. You run the railroad, you run the workers, and you run all the settlers here, don't ya? You think I'm a know it all? Well at least I don't get my nose stuck in everyone else's business round here! Mr. Bohannon's here to save the day! Just like he did yesterday! And the day before that! Someone grab him a medal of honor! Maybe a sash! Or a crown!"

I was pushing him too far. He gritted his teeth together and threw his hat down on the ground.

"You're gonna give me a medal of honor, now?!" he yelled. "Why don't we get you a parade?! And march you down the street on a float!? Everybody come celebrate for the girl who's prideful, won't accept help, and thinks she doesn't need anybody but herself! Look at you! You're just the bravest, toughest, most courageous girl who ever did live, ain't ya? And, and! You're a liar!"

"What!?"

"You didn't tell me how you really got that wound on the back of your head, I had to find out in the worst way possible!"

"Well, that must have been horrible for you!" I yelled back sarcastically.

"Red, you better watch your mouth," he warned.

"Or what? You gonna hit me?" I was pushing things too far, again.

"If you were a man, I already would have by now." he said looking down at me.

"What? You think I can't take it? Or you afraid of me?" I glared back up at him.

"Afraid of you? Please, Red, don't embarrass yourself," he stepped back a bit.

"You're afraid I would fight back, aren't ya?"

"Someone oughta put you in your place," he grinded his jaw.

"My place?" I said, offended.

"Yeah, I said somebody needs to put you in your place!" he stepped forward, bumping into me.

"You wanna put me in my place?" I said egging him on.

He only gritted his teeth together harder and balled up his fists.

"Then put me in my place!" I dared him.

He took the dare. But not in the way I expected him to.


	17. Almost

My heart skipped a couple beats when Mr. Bohannon suddenly jolted forward. I felt the gush of summer air as he moved towards me and bent down. He hooked his arms around my legs, stood up, and threw me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. At first I felt really scared, considering what had happened just a few weeks earlier. But after a minute I felt completely fine. As if I was perfectly okay to be carted off wherever Mr. Bohannon was going to take me.

"Put me down," I said rather calmly.

"Nope," he said.

I thought he was going to take me back to my tent and make me pack my things to leave, but when he passed my tent I thought he was going to take me to my uncle and have him scold me or something. But when he passed by my uncle's car, I got a little scared again.

I was viewing the world upside-down and bouncing as he carried me.

"Wait, is this… is this where you kill me?" I asked jokingly.

He just laughed and walked up to his train car. My heart started pounding so hard I thought for sure he could feel it. He opened the door to the car with one hand, stepped inside with me over his shoulder, and closed the door behind him. He walked forward a few steps. I knew that I shouldn't have just been letting him do this. I should've been kicking and yelling. But there was something about Mr. Bohannon that lured me in like a fish to bait. I hated it. He was already so self-entitled. Why did he get to have everything he wanted? Including me?

Mr. Bohannon flung me off his shoulder quite unceremoniously and flopped me down onto his bed so I was lying on my back. Immediately I sat up and swung my feet onto the floor. I hopped to my feet and glared up at him as he smirked at me.

"This is you putting me in my place, huh?" I said putting my hands on my hips.

"Yes," he said in a low voice. "If you want it to be,"

He reached out slowly and took my hands and held them in his. He looked down at our hands for a few moments and then looked up at me. I stared into his eyes for a split second until I looked away. My heart was still pounding. I looked down at our hands. His hands were dry, rough, and huge compared to mine, but they had a certain gentleness about them that made me never want to let go. I almost let my heart get the better of my brain, but I finally snapped out of it. I let go of his hands and stepped back.

"No. No, no, no. You can't just do that!"

He smiled at me and stepped forward. I put a hand on his chest and tried to push him back but he didn't budge.

"You think you can literally just throw women into your bed!"

"Red, we both know you're not just any old woman," he whispered.

I found myself speechless and furrowed my eyebrows together, trying to think of something witty to say, or a comeback, or an insult, but I couldn't. I just stood there with my mouth open, breathing heavily.

He took my ash-smudged face in his hands and pulled me towards him. I resisted for a moment until he looked me in the eyes. It wasn't exactly a loving look, but more of a come-here-or-else look.

I gave in.

The feeling of his lips against mine, and the scratch of his dark beard made me want to melt. I was taking it all in, closing my eyes and feeling his hands in my hair when I realized I had no idea what to do. What was I supposed to do with my hands? My arms were at my sides like dead fish. He was kissing me, and yet I was still too shy around him to reach up and touch his chest or his waist. Just at that moment of panic, he someone sensed my unsureness, and my inexperience. Without stopping the kiss, he put my arms on his shoulders and pulled me closer to him by my waist. These few movements sent shivers all the way from my neck to the heels of my feet. I suddenly found my hands entwined in his hair. As the kiss became more heated, I uncontrollably started tugging. He groaned softly and gripped my waist tighter, which sent more shivers.

In just a few seconds my unsure feelings of kisses and skills of kissing when from novice to expert very quickly. My instincts kicked in with a vengeance and all my thought processes when out the window. I didn't care about anything but that moment. I had no other objective than to have this man in front of me in every way possible. I had no thoughts in my head. He obviously sensed this about me, too, and followed my lead. The touch of his tongue sent me over the edge even further, and he started walking me towards his bed. My heart was thumping. My brain protested for a moment and managed to get some words out of my mouth. I pulled away from his face, still breathing heavily.

"Mr. Bohannon," I gasped.

"My name is Cullen," he gasped back.

He promptly began kissing me again. I didn't want to stop. To say that I couldn't stop might be a lie. I had to admit that I felt extremely safe, warm, comforted; not to mention lucky.

He pushed me down on the bed, softly this time, and leaned over me. I thought he would keep kissing my lips, but he moved to my neck instead. I sucked in a breath of nervous air. I couldn't even gather enough thoughts to process what was going on. I had never felt anything like this before. I had never experienced this in any way. My eyes rolled back in my head as he kept kissing and nibbling my neck.

His hands began to roam. He glided them softly over my arms and down to my waist. Involuntarily, my muscles tightened and I jumped as if I was startled. Mr. Bohannon propped himself up on his arms and looked down at me, concerned.

"You alright there?" he asked.

I nodded my head.

"You're shaking,"

I looked down. I was shaking. I was shivering as if it was a cold night in December outside, when really it was the middle of summer and the inside of the train car was, well, rather hot. He grabbed my hands and pulled me up so I was sitting. I was still shaking. He put his hands on my knees and tried to hold them against the floor to stop shaking, but they wouldn't. He gripped my shoulders and tried to stop them from shaking as well, but they wouldn't. I looked down at the floor boards in embarrassment, not knowing what to do.

"You that scared of me?" he said trying to tease.

I shook my head no.

"You… cold?"

I shook my head no again.

"Then what is it?" he lifted my chin up with two of his fingers and turned my head toward his face. I half smiled, thinking it was a sweet gesture, but when I looked at his face, I didn't see Cullen Bohannon. I saw Jasper Prescott, pulling his bandana down.

I gasped loudly, yelped and fell of the bed. I looked back up at Mr. Bohannon. He was himself again, and he looked very concerned this time. He knelt down beside me and put his arm around me.

I was seeing things. Why was I seeing things?

The melting sensation of the romantic kiss was long gone now, and I could feel myself going unwillingly into a panic attack.

"Alright. Okay," he said trying to calm me.

He picked me back up and sat me on the bed.

"I know, I know," he shushed me.

He reached out his hand again and wiped a few tears on my face. Apparently I had begun crying. Wonderful, a man finally kissed me and I began crying. I swatted his hand away from my face.

"I'm fine," I insisted.

"This's my fault," he said.

"Fault?"

"Well, I…"

"No, it's my fault," I stood up. "I'm an idiot. And pathetic. And you're probably wishing you hadn't made this huge mistake."

"I ain't made no mistake," he said.

There was a pause for a moment.

"No this is my fault. I ain't never been with a man before. Well before…" my voice trailed off. I couldn't bring myself to talk about what had happened.

"Shut up and come 'ere," Mr. Bohannon grabbed me by my wrist and pulled me into his arms. He kicked off his boots and lied back. He kept his arms wrapped around me tight. Neither of us said anything. We just sat together with our legs on the bed until our eyes closed. I fell asleep with my head on his chest, listening to his slow and steady breaths. He rested his chin on top of my head with his arms linked around me. And that's exactly where we stayed through the night until the morning came.


	18. Wait 'til He Comes Back

I woke up with my head still spinning from the rollercoaster of emotions from the night before. I sat up and yawned. My hair was in a puffy rat's nest as I rubbed the sleepiness from my eyes. Cullen was snoring with his arm over his eyes. So it wasn't a dream. I chuckled. I was still fully dressed so I grabbed my shoes and laced them up. I stood up and the weight on the bed shifted. Cullen popped up from his sleep and grabbed my wrist.

"That's cold. You're leavin' me alone in bed?" he said in a sleepy voice.

"You would be doin' the same thing if you woke up first," I said.

"True," he agreed.

I laughed. He held my hand in his for a moment.

"Okay," he said as he convinced himself to get up.

I brushed through my hair with my fingers and braided it to the side.

"Where're you going so early?" he grumbled.

I looked out the car window. The sun hadn't come up yet.

"I'm going over to the Palmer Hotel. Talk to my Uncle,"

He lifted one eyebrow at me.

"We have things we need to talk about," I said.

I walked to the door and opened it.

"And, um, thank you for…" my voice trailed off.

"See you later?" he asked.

"Maybe," I teased as I shut the door behind me.

I went to saddle up May and check on the mule's ankle. May had an attitude as always, but we rode over to Cheyanne.

The sun started to rise as May and I made our way over the hill and towards the small town. My conscience began to kick in and scold me for the night before.

What was I thinking? I knew better than that. There was no way he had any true feelings for me. He just wanted a kiss. Maybe more. Were we friends? Wasn't I much too young for him? Did he just not care? My mind was buzzing with questions. I wasn't sure what was right, or what I should do. How would I continue after this whole incident? Would I be nothing more than a friend? Maybe I'd end up as just his own personal toy. I rolled my eyes at myself.

I dismounted from May and walked up to the Palmer Hotel. My uncle stepped out waving at me and instantly went off ranting and raving about Mr. Bohannon. If only he knew what had happened last night. He then continued on ranting about Mr. Huntington, and how the Central Pacific Railroad was trying to steal workers and took up resources and money. I listened politely, but my mind was elsewhere.

"Thomas, may I steal your lovely niece away for just a moment? I need her help grabbing the tea," Maggie Palmer said.

I was startled out of my daydreaming. Tea? Who drinks hot tea in this weather? I stood up and dusted my skirt off. As I followed Mrs. Palmer to the hotel kitchen she smiled mischievously at me.

"Your Uncle always talks about what an attractive young woman you are. He was right," she complimented me.

"My uncle talks a lot," I scoffed. "Oh, uh, I mean, he has a way of saying things that aren't uh, well,"

"No, no. There's no way for you to hide it. And he's told me all about your medical work, your volunteer work, and many more things. You are quite an eligible young lady. Perfect for my son," she stated.

I dropped a cup on the floor. It shattered. I felt so guilty for ruining a fine china cup.

"Oh, it's fine," Mrs. Palmer said.

"I'm sorry, you just startled me. Um, I'm not really marriage material, ma'am," I stuttered.

"You absolutely are! Thomas agrees that it will be a fine match! I can't wait for you to meet –"

Before I could continue objecting to her match-making, Cullen and Elam burst through the front door with a small boy. There was gunfire and hoof steps outside that was slowly getting louder and louder. Maggie and I ran out of the kitchen, ignoring the broken glass. The slammed the door behind them and blocked the door with a table. We were bewildered. Cullen's eyes met mine.

"Red! Red, come with me. Come with me now. You and Ezra are gonna stay upstairs and neither of you are going to come out until that gunfire stops," he grabbed Ezra by the shoulders and knelt. "Do not come out until I come get you," he looked up at me for a spilt second and ran back downstairs.

The gunfire continued to get louder and louder. We could hear glass windows shattering downstairs. I cradles Ezra's head to my chest and covered his ears. It seemed like we were up there for hours. He cried and cried as I tried to calm him.

After a long while, things were quiet. We couldn't even hear gunfire from the street. Slowly I uncovered Ezra's ears.

"Bohannon is gone isn't he? He's gone and he ain't comin' back," Ezra sobbed.

"Shhhh," I said, "Of course he's coming back. He's coming back for us," I tried to convince not only Ezra, but myself as well.

Suddenly, we heard clonking footsteps come up the stair. I motioned at Ezra not to make a sound. We both peered around the corner from our hiding spot. I couldn't see a thing. That's when I felt a cold gun barrel poke my back.

"Stand up," a man ordered.

I stood up slowly and turned. He had a bandana covering his face and he pointed his gun at me.

"Give me the boy," he said under the cloth.

"No," I refused. My heart was beating wildly, but I couldn't break down now. I had to protect Ezra.

As the man lunged forward to grab my arm, I reached for a bottle that sat on a table near us. I grabbed the neck of the wine bottle and slammed it down on the stranger's head. Wine sprayed everywhere, glass shattered around us, and he dropped to the floor unconscious. I looked down at him, and then quickly back at Ezra. His eyes were wide open. He didn't say a thing, but shakily pointed at my shoulder. I looked down at my arm. It was soaked with blood.

In the chaos of everything, I hadn't noticed. The masked man's gun was still smoking, and my arm was searing with pain. My vision began to go blurry as my knees started to buckle.

"Ezra, wait for Mr. –"

And with that I dropped to the floor. Unsure if I would live, but what was even more worrisome was that I was unsure if Cullen Bohannon would come back.


	19. Soft-Spoken

The second my eyes started to open, the first words out of my mouth were almost incoherent.

"Where's Mr. Bohannon? Where's Ezra!?" I gasped.

"Lay down dear, you've been shot," my uncle said.

"I know, I know!" I said swatting his hand away.

My dress, the tablecloth underneath me, and my uncle's hands were all soaked in blood. I felt nauseous and extremely woozy. My arm was numb with pain.

"Where is Ezra?!" I asked again.

"He's fine, he's fine," Maggie reassured me. "He's with Ruth, she's watching over him,"

Mr. Durant put his hands on his hips and sighed.

"Rosanna, the bullet broke into two – maybe three pieces. I got the largest piece out, but the other piece is too deep into your vein to get out,"

I honestly didn't really care. I felt pretty stable, other than losing so much blood.

"Will the other piece kill me? Will I lose the use of my arm?" I asked.

"Well, no, but…"

I cut him off. "Well then it'll heal over. Where's Mr. Bohannon?"

Mr. Durant handed me a cup of water.

"Bohannon's been taken hostage by a group of masked riders," he stated plainly.

"That's very funny, uncle. Where is he?"

"Mr. Durant is serious, Rosanna. He's gone. We don't think he'll come back. And if he does – well, we don't expect him to be alive," Mrs. Palmer said quietly.

I wanted answers pretty quickly.

"Who were they? Was he hurt? What did he do? Is everyone okay?" I sprayed questions out.

"Okay, alright. You're starting to sweat and your heartrate is out of control. Rest."

Mrs. Palmer and my uncle took me to a room upstairs. There were gunshot holes in the walls and broken glass everywhere. And even though I wanted Cullen to come back soon – safe and alive – I was exhausted. The feeling of soft blankets underneath me and pillows under my head lulled me into a hazy state of lethargy. I could hear Eva yelling at Elam outside my window. I wanted to stand up and look to see what was going on, but I just couldn't. I heard Elam ride away on a horse. Through the open window, a gush of hot summer air wafted through, like an oven being opened. I sighed heavily. I could feel beads of sweat fall down the sides of my forehead. My eyes fluttered closed.

The next morning I awoke from searing pain shooting through my right arm. I was sweating profusely and my mouth was drier than a desert. I forced my heavy eyes to open and used my left arm to reach for a cup sitting on the bedside table. Instead, someone else handed it to me. In my half-asleep blurred vision I didn't think to look up to see who was aiding my thirst. I just sat up, took the cup, gulped down the water, and fell back onto the pillows. I closed my eyes. Suddenly, I felt the cold sensation of a wet cloth on my forehead.

"Need more water?" a voice asked.

It was not a voice I recognized. It wasn't my uncle or Eva, and it wasn't Mrs. Palmer. I opened my eyes too quickly, which let water blur my vision even more. I wiped my eyes off and found a stranger sitting by my bed. He was young. Maybe in his early or middle twenties. He had a look on his face that was both concerned and amused at the same time.

I jolted backwards, hitting my head on the bedframe. I didn't trust strangers anymore. Not after what happened.

"Hey! Hey, it's okay! I'm not gonna hurt you," he said eagerly.

"Who are you?" I spluttered whilst trying to process the whole thing.

"Roy! I'm Roy. Roy Palmer?"

I looked around the room trying to think. Should I have known who this man was? I didn't remember him at all. Was this a dream? I looked back at him. He was beginning to look genuinely worried.

"My mother asked me to come watch over you this morning," he tried to explain. "Mrs. Palmer?"

I finally realized what he was talking about.

"You've been asleep for a couple days," he said.

I didn't say anything. Suddenly my face flushed red as I also realized I probably had crazy hair, bad breath, and bags under my eyes. Nervously, I pulled the covers towards me a bit.

"Tell you what. I'll go down and tell your uncle that you're awake and we'll all have breakfast. In the meantime you can get dressed and everything," he patted my leg.

"Thank you," I mumbled.

He grinned and walked out.

After he left I managed to stretch and stand myself up. I was absolutely groggy. I walked to the mirror and the washing basin and looked at myself. The sight was truly disheartening. I looked awful. I tried my best to brush my hair with my left hand. Moving my right arm hurt far too much. Eventually my hair calmed down a bit, but it was still too frizzy and puffy. I gave up. I slipped out of the undergarments I was in and put on a clean dress. I struggled to get my arms through the sleeves and ended up having to call a room attendant to help me lace and button up the dress. Thankfully she also helped me braid my hair back. I splashed some cold water on my face, but my lips were still pale, and my eyes were still puffy. I sighed and headed down the stairs.

There was no more broken glass on the floor, but the walls still had bullet holes in them. I could smell the breakfast from atop the stairs as I hobbled down.

"Back on your feet I see!" My uncle said excitedly.

He came up the stairs and took my arm. I thanked him softly.

"So soft spoken this morning. Why?" he asked.

"I'm alright, uncle. Just tired," I replied.

We sat at the breakfast table with Mrs. Palmer and her son, Roy. Mrs. Palmer wore a light salmon colored dress and gazed in son.

"Roy is joining us all the way from Minnesota! I'm so glad to have him here," she beamed.

Roy Palmer was clean shaven, with short, light brown hair. It was almost blonde and seemed to be bleached from harsh sunlight. I assumed this because his skin was extremely tan. I could tell he was uncomfortable in a dressy shirt. He had a strong jawline which could have made him more intimidating, but the innocent look on his face made him look absolutely harmless. My uncle and I listened to Mrs. Palmer talk about her son while Roy consistently tried to change the conversation. I stopped listening after a while and tried to eat. Gripping the utensils with my right hand send jolts of sharp pain up my arm, so I experimented with my left hand. I was making an unsuccessful effort when I caught the gaze of Roy Palmer. He was laughing at me with his eyes. Embarrassed, I put my fork down and wiped my mouth with a napkin. He looked down at his plate quickly hoping I hadn't seen him staring.

"So, what is it that you do back in Minnesota?" I asked. It was the first time I had spoken up all morning.

He straightened his back and said proudly, "I'm a farmer,"

That explained a lot about him.

"What is it that you farm?" My uncle asked.

"Wheat mostly," he smiled.

"Ah, excellent," Mr. Durant said, trying to sound approving. "Do you have a family of your own?"

Roy opened his mouth and was about to answer when his mother quickly cut in.

"Oh no, he doesn't. Not yet. But he will soon," she smiled sweetly.

I looked up at her. She was looking directly at me. And what's worse is that she continued.

"Roy is going to make the most amazing father you've ever seen," she sighed dreamily. "I can just imagine all the little children running around at family gatherings and such. Not to mention what a great husband he'll be," she looked at me again.

In a panic I stood up letting my napkin fall to the floor.

"Sorry, um, I have to… Excuse me," I said.

I practically ran out the door to May. I was lost again.


	20. A Cold Bucket of Water

I was walking so quickly down the dirt road that I almost rolled my ankle and fell down. I shakily straightened myself back up and took a deep breath. Unfortunately my breath outwards was the begging of a sobbing fit. I was crying from exhaustion, from stress, from worry, from the pain in my arm, and now from hunger because I couldn't even finish breakfast. Did Mrs. Palmer really think that the best time to start an arranged marriage was to offer her son a girl with a gunshot in her arm? She must've be desperate for grandchildren or anxious to plan an over the top wedding. I shook my head no to myself as I kept walking to the stables. I found May and buried my face in her side, letting the tears fall. I felt like a child.

"I want Cullen, please, I just want Cullen," I shakily whispered to myself through sobs.

"Ms. Rosanna?" a soft voice spoke.

There was only one child I knew of in Cheyanne. Ezra. I whirled around, trying to quickly wipe away my tears. It was the first time I had heard him say anything. He never spoke. I tried to get him to speak again:

"Ezra, thank God. I'm glad you're okay," my voice cracked.

He didn't reply. He only nodded. But he gazed at me with concerned eyes.

"Oh, I'm alright. I'm just worried about our friend, Mr. Bohannon,"

He nodded once and looked down.

"You too, huh?"

He looked intently at me and stuck out a slingshot he held in his hand, prompting me to take it. Carefully I reached out and grabbed it. He took my other hand and opened it. Carefully, he reached in his pocket and pulled out a handful of small rocks, put it in my hand and closed my fingers around them. He looked at me again, turned on his heel, and ran out of the barn.

I held the slingshot and ammunition in my hands. Did he want me to find Mr. Bohannon? Did he want to give these to me before he ran away? I didn't know.

After a minute of composing myself somewhat, I went on my way to find Ruth, who, as far as I knew was in charge of the young boy. I stepped up to her wooden church and hesitated. I knocked twice. She opened the door and sighed.

"Oh it's you,"

"Sorry to disappoint you," I said half sincerely.

"No, it's fine, I'm just…" her voice trailed off and she paced around the church room. "Have you seen Ezra?" she asked.

"Yeah he just came into the stables a while ago and gave me these," I showed her his slingshot.

"Keep it, he has about ten of them," she continued to pace. "He's gone absolutely savage! He keeps breaking things, and running, and earlier today, he let a whole corral of horses loose!"

She sat down on a church bench and looked up at me. "What do I do?" she said with tears in her eyes.

Why in the world would she be asking me? I didn't know anything about children, I was still basically a child myself.

"Ruth, I – "

She cut me off.

"Where's Mr. Bohannon? He's the only one who can control that boy," she sat up. She was shaking and her eyes were darting everywhere.

"Ruth, stand up, come here," I took her under my arm and squeezed her shoulder. "It's okay," I assured her.

With Ruth on my arm, I walked us over to my uncle's office. We peeked through the window, and sure enough, there was Ezra, sitting across from Durant, shaking in his seat.

"He's right there, okay? Go inside, get Ezra, then come back to the rail cars for supper tonight at 7," I ordered.

"Wha…" she started to protest.

"Go. Inside. There ya go, " I said as I opened the door and pushed her in.

I looked in the window to make sure she talked to my uncle and got Ezra, then began walking back to feed May. By now I had seemed to calm down a bit. I was still worried, but I wasn't in a state of panic. The sun was setting as I lit a lantern and took it over to May. I grabbed a pitchfork and started cleaning out her stable and straightening up. The strain on my right arm was ridiculous, but I knew I had to keep using it if I didn't was to lose it altogether. A loud, cocky voice startled me from behind.

"Ah, thank God!" a raspy, extremely low voice whooped at me. "Stable girl! Come take this horse, thank you."

I refused to answer, or turn around.

"You! Girl! I'm speaking to you! Girl!"

I slowly turned and made eye contact with an older man in a fancy suit and curled moustache.

"Stable girl, again, take my horse if you will," he said.

I slowly walked to him with deliberate steps.

"What is taking so long?!" he yelped.

I bent down and grabbed a bucket of water with horse-snot floating on the surface.

"No, my horse doesn't need water, just ta-"

His condescending sentence was promptly cut off by me, throwing the horse-snot water on his face. His mouth was still open with his eyes squinted shut.

"Take care of your own horse," I said as I shouldered him and strutted out of the barn.

Not surprisingly, my angry outburst was a good way to end my hectic and emotional day. I sloppily changed my bandages with my left hand and let my head hit my pillow like an anvil.

Two months passed. Every day I wondered if Cullen was still alive. I wondered if Elam was still alive. I wondered if Eva would come visit me. Ezra would sometimes make eye contact with me as he ran down the street. He looked disappointed in me. Like I should go find Mr. Bohannon. And maybe I should have. But I felt tied to something that wouldn't let me leave. Occasionally my uncle or Mrs. Palmer would invite me to eat with them. I would accept and ignore the inappropriate marriage hints that now my uncle was participating in, too. He would tell me, "Rose, you need stability. Rose, you need to settle down. Rose, you need to make roots." I ignored them both. Roy ignored them too, and tried to be as polite as he could to me. No doubt he wanted a blonde haired, skinny wife to take back to Minnesota. I don't think he was at all interested in making me his little milk maid. And I wasn't either. It still made dinner uncomfortable when I would catch him staring at me from across the table. Or when we would awkwardly touch hands when passing food around. I felt like a last cut of meat. Like I wasn't the woman he wanted, but he might consider me if he grew tired of looking for something better.

Every morning I experienced that blissful moment when you can't really recall any recent memories. I didn't remember that the man my heart ached for was missing or dead. I didn't remember my gunshot, or the woman trying to marry me to her son.

And then it all hit me like a bucket of cold water to the face. Talk about karma.

I still took my morning walk, despite the incessant stinging in my arm. I didn't often ride May, but I brought her along with me anyway. I hooked up a satchel to her saddle with the intent to pick wild herbs and roots, possibly berries. We walked along for hours with no luck.

It was midday, and I should've been back at camp. (Not really at camp anymore, considering I had taken over Cullen's rail car and claimed it as my own) When out in the distance I spotted a large bush. We walk closer and as I realized what it was I could feel my face breaking into a smile.

"May, it's honeysuckle flowers!" I gasped.

She galloped over and promptly began taking giant chomps of the bush.

"Hey! Save some for me!" I laughed.

I began gathering them up and began singing stupidly to myself.

" _Oh, yeah, honeysuckles for me! Honeysuckles all day! Found me some honeysuckles today! Oh yeah, yeah, yeah!"_

"Rosanna?"

I yelped.

"Sorry, I just wanted to apologize for my mother," Roy said as he dismounted his horse.

I was blushing, embarrassed, and not happy that he had found me on my private walk. But especially not happy that he had found me singing. How many more times would I embarrass myself in front of him?

"What the hell are you doing out here?" I asked rather rudely.

"I told you, I came to say sorry,"

"Well how did you know I was out here?"

"Lucky guess?" he shrugged. "I see you've found some honeysuckle,"

I turned red.

"You can't just sneak up on people! You scared me half to death!" I blurted out.

"Well, I'd never do it twice," he winked.

Jokes. He was making jokes. Bad ones.

"Can I ride you back to town?"

I raised my eyebrow.

"Oh gosh! Can I ride with you back to town?" he grumbled to himself.

"That's… okay, fine."

He helped me up to my saddle. And we awkwardly clonked to town in silence.

"Listen, Rose –"

"Nope, my name's Tyler," I corrected him.

"Tyler, I wanted – well, I hoped we could talk and maybe just-"

We were on the very outskirts of town when I suddenly jerked the reins back and stopped May. She neighed loudly. I stared forward shocked.

Roy leaned towards me.

"What? What is it? Is everything okay?"

I didn't answer. I had no words.

"Who is that?" he said staring in the same direction I was.

It was him.

But it wasn't just him. It was him and his family.


	21. Yes, He Is

Maybe I wasn't seeing things correctly. Maybe the woman sitting beside him was a sister, or a stranger he was helping, and maybe the basket wasn't carrying a baby, but bread or something. Yeah, of course. Mr. Bohannon helped people all the time. Surely it was someone else's wife he was returning to her home. Maybe that wasn't even him – it was just someone who looked like him.

He was stopped by two men and I saw him get out of his wagon and promptly hit one heckler on the head with his own gun and proceed to point it at the other man.

Okay, it was definitely Cullen.

I had forgotten about Roy Palmer.

"Hey! Is that Mr. Bohannon?"

"How could you tell?" I asked.

"I dunno. He just looks like everything I've heard about. I wanna say hello and introduce myself! See you around, Rose," he said as he kicked his horse.

"It's Tyler!" I yelled at him.

Mr. Bohannon heard me yell my name – a mistake on my part – and darted his head around to look for where the sound was coming from. Before he could see me, I whipped May 180 degrees and rode away in the other direction.

It was a strange feeling in my gut as I ran. I would not and could not cry. I had wept enough over this man, and I wasn't sure what was going on. Part of me was outrageously giddy that he wasn't dead. Another part felt betrayed that he didn't return sooner, because didn't look injured at all.

I aimlessly wandered around the railroad tracks until it became dark. I decided to head over to Mickey's saloon. Someone there had to have information on what was going on. When I arrived, Mickey greeted me with a warm hug. Eva was in the back wiping down a table and ignoring everything.

"Did you hear?" Mickey said in his thick accent. "Bohannon's back!" He practically sang the news.

"I, uh, thought I saw him earlier, yeah." I tried to sound casual. "Who was that woman with him?"

"Ah, his wife, would ya believe it? And a new son, too. Gorgeous boy." He paused. "The baby, that is,"

My heart dropped to the floor and basically splattered on the ground. Still, my eyes produced no tears, and I began to feel sick. Not with heartache, but with anger.

"A cute family in Cheyanne?" I said looking around at the whores sitting at the bar. "Now that's not something you see in Cheyanne every day, is it?" I winked and smiled.

Mickey laughed. "Get you a drink?" he asked.

"Absolutely,"

I spent a few hours sitting at the bar, and wandering around until Eva finally came up to me.

"Bohannon's back," she said with her eyes down.

"Yep," I agreed, taking a sip of cider.

"Bohannon's back and Elam isn't," she said, her voice cracking.

I looked at her and after seeing the tears well up in her eyes, I gathered her up in my arms.

"I know sweetheart, I'm sorry," I tried to soothe her as she sobbed.

"Bastard," she squeaked out between sobs.

"Yes, he is," I agreed as I held her. "Yes, he is,"

She looked up at me and wiped her eyes. We both awkwardly had nothing to say for a few minutes.

"Eva, what are you doin' here? Cleaning tables?" I asked.

"I need work, I need to keep busy," she said.

"Hmm," I scratched my chin. "You're too pretty to be cleaning. I bet you could try your hand at gambling. Men get distracted by you," I tried to be encouraging.

"Seriously?" she asked.

"Yep," I smiled.

She left after a while. I didn't know where she went or where she would stay. I felt guilty as I watched her leave, wanting to help in some way.

Lost in thought, I felt someone tap my shoulder. I geared up for a punch and turned. It was my uncle.

"Rosanna," he said with a disapproving tone.

"It's cider, uncle," I said.

"I see. Did you get a chance to see Bohannon?" he asked.

"No," I stated plainly.

"Oh, well. Rose, I want you to know that I did not give Bohannon his job back. I think it's despicable what he did to us, and to you, and your arm, and uh,"

I interrupted him.

"How is he going to survive without a job? That's his family, right?"

"Well, it's the girl he got pregnant and his baby, so technically yes," Durant said.

"Girl?" I asked.

"Yes, I believe she's nineteen," my uncle said disapprovingly.

"You're kidding me," I said with my eyes wide.

"No, I'm not. And he'll work on the railroad, not for the railroad," Durant finished. "Breakfast at seven tomorrow morning, Rose. See you then,"

I left the bar late at night. I walked to my rail car. Mine. Not Mr. Bohannon's. I straightened up my room, I cleaned up, and went to bed. I did not lose a wink of sleep. I did not toss or turn. I was determined to go on with life without being bothered by Cullen Bohannon.

I woke up at dawn and put on a plain brown and tan dress and carefully braided my hair into a bun. I also put on a hat to cover most of my face, and dark sturdy boots.

When I arrived at the Palmer hotel, I stopped short. My uncle was talking to the same man I had thrown horse snot on. I cautiously tried to turn around but didn't make it.

"Ah Rosanna! Come!" Mr. Durant yelled.

I tipped my hat lower.

"Excuse me, Mr. Campbell, but I have a lovely breakfast to enjoy now," My uncle said rudely.

"Who's this?" the man asked.

"Oh, this is my lovely niece, Rosanna. Rosanna, Governor Campbell," he introduced us.

I did not want to be introduced. I looked up at him and saw his eyes widen when he recognized me. I took my hat off, further confirming I must be the only curly haired red head in town. We looked at each other in silence. I spoke first.

"I uh… Well, we've met already. I threw water all over him," I confessed.

There was a pause.

"Well, that's nice." My uncle said nonchalantly. "Now, let's eat!"

"Uncle, should we not invite Mr. Campbell to join us?" I asked.

He didn't answer.

"It'll be my way of apologizing," I said.

"No, no, miss, it's me who should be apologizing for my rude behavior, it had been a long day," Campbell said in a gentlemanly manner.

He stood up and took my arm in his, very charmingly and suave. My uncle seemed annoyed but did not protest any further. We walked into the hotel where Mrs. Palmer and Roy were already waiting for us. Roy made eye contact with me and shifted in his seat uncomfortably. Everyone was properly introduced and what finally after what seemed like a thousand years, we began to eat. All I wanted was scrambled eggs. I ate until I was too full. As usual Mrs. Palmer had seated me right beside her son. After breakfast was almost over all the "adults" began to talk about things that didn't interest either of us.

"You look nice," Roy said.

I looked up at him in shock with a mouth full of bacon and a fork still in my hand.

"What?" he shrugged. "It was a sincere compliment,"

I wiped my mouth with a napkin and stood up.

"If you'll excuse Mr. Palmer and I, I think we're going to go for a morning walk," I said.

"Of course!" Mrs. Palmer said too enthusiastically.

I grabbed Roy by the wrist and basically dragged him out of the hotel.

"Are you seriously that insulted by compliments?" he said.

"No, just, come with me," I said.

We started walking down by the railroad, both of us looking at the ground.

"Look, I know this whole thing seems like just a funny game to you until you get to go back to Minnesota, but it's not funny to me!" I told him.

"What do you mean?" he furrowed his eyebrows.

"Your mother and her comments and my uncle and their shenanigans! It's literally making me lose sleep at night! Of course, I know you think it's hilarious, and you can laugh at me and be entertained by this whole charade, but I know you don't like me at all, and –"

"But I do," he interrupted.

"What?"

"I do like you," he said plainly.

"What the hell are you talking about?" I was shocked.

"My cousin who was injured in the war stayed at the same hospital you worked at back East. He talked of nothing anything else. Said he was grateful for your friendship and care. You guys played chess together?" he tried to jog my memory.

"Gabe?"

"When he passed away I wanted to find you and give you some letters from him, but I couldn't find the right time because you acted like you hated me. You were so defensive and uh, not as gushy as he described you so I couldn't tell if I had made a mistake,"

"He passed away?" I said still shocked.

"You didn't know," he realized.

"No, I didn't," my heart sank.

"Red?" a new voice entered the conversation.

Great. Perfect timing. With my body facing Roy I turned my head towards Cullen and looked at him.

"You know Mr. Bohannon?" Roy asked me.

I was not smiling. What was going on? Shock after shock was striking me with the force of ten thousand lightning bolts and there was Cullen, smiling like he expected me to come running into his arms.

I angrily stomped towards him and balled up my right fist. His expression changed as I approached him. He looked happy, then concerned, then worried, then scared. I did not slap him, or spit on him. I punched him. I wasn't nearly strong enough to knock him off his feet; his head only whipped sideways for a brief second until he cradled his jaw with his hand and looked at me in confusion.

I had realized the mistake I had made. I had punched him with my right arm. My arm with two pieces of bullet still lodged in the shoulder. My ligaments jolted and stabbed my nerves in my shoulder so hard I felt the awful jolt of pain go all the way up to my neck. I yelped in pain. Mr. Bohannon now looked concerned.

"What! What is going on? Are you alright? What?" he staggered around me.

He was trying to put his hands on my sides to stop me from pacing back and forth in pain.

"No, I'm not alright!" I swatted his hand away. "I have a bullet in my shoulder because of YOU, YOU SON OF A BITCH!"

I didn't care about the pain anymore, I began swinging. Left hooks, right hooks, it didn't matter. Cullen simply backed away in horror, but Roy came running up and grabbed me from behind.

"Put me down!" I screamed.

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Bohannon," Roy said as he hoisted me over his shoulder and carted me away.


	22. Mistakes Made

"You better stop kicking me, Tyler," Roy threatened.  
"Put me down!" I screamed.  
"I said you better stop kicking me, Tyler. Right now," Roy did not sound like the sweet goof he always did.  
He carried me all the way to my train car and dropped me on the bed. I stood up to walk away but he put his hands on my shoulders and pushed me back down.  
"Sit down," he ordered.  
I didn't say anything. I sat still and glared at the back of his head as he rummaged through the drawers in my train car. He was almost too tall to stand up straight in the train car.

"What the hell are you looking for?" I grumbled.  
"Shut it," he ordered.  
My eyes widened a bit. Did he just tell me to be quiet?  
"You seriously just don't give a damn, do you? You just do whatever you want, huh? You don't care about keeping yourself healthy, you don't care about your actions, nothin'."  
He turned around and bent down on one knee with a roll of medical wrap in his hand. He grabbed my right arm rather roughly and took the seam of my sleeve by the shoulder and ripped it right off.  
"Hey!" I protested.  
"Cry me a river," he said without looking at me. "See this?" He said lifting my arm up. "It's bleeding internally because you think you can just punch grown men in the face! You've been leadin' me on, leadin' my mother on, doing whatever you please," he said angrily as he unwrapped the medical cloth.  
He started wrapping it around my arm, applying pressure to 3 scars the bullet shrapnel had left.

"Now, you obviously have had some beef or love affair with Mr. Bohannon that neither you nor your uncle has told me about. But that explains why your emotions are so suppressed but not why you're one of the feistiest, unladylike women I've ever met. And how old are you?"  
"Twenty," I whispered.  
"My mother was wrong. You are too young for me," he hissed as he tied off the band on my arm.  
He stood up and began walking away. I jumped to my feet.  
"If you really were interested in courting me, you shouldn't have been so sarcastic and you should have made your intentions clear!" I yelled.  
"Clear?" he asked slowly as he turned around. "Who was the one who stayed up for two days taking care of you, a woman I had never met, when you got shot? Me. Who told my mother not to bring up your circumstances or the fact that you're an orphan during meal times? Me. Who had to put up with your sarcastic comments about farmers? Me. Who has helped your uncle negotiate with other farmers to bring food to the railroad? Me again. Who tried to make light conversation with you while your mind was clearly focused on another man? Me. God. Maybe I'm the stupid one for thinking I could compete with the almighty Bohannon. You know that's all my uncle talks about. And my mother. And everyone in the stinking town. And now I know that's all you care about, too. I came here because I am looking for a wife, and I am a hardworking farmer who wants a family, and I had heard nothing but good things about you. And while it remains true that you are beautiful, I can't say that your personality matches."  
He remained standing with his body towards me, breathing heavily with his chest moving up and down rapidly. I looked into his eyes which had the clear look of regret for everything he had just said.  
"I'm… sorry." Was all I could get out.  
"No, you're not," he finished as he turned and slammed the door behind him.  
I stood for a few more minutes, still in shock, until I final sat down on my cot and thought long and hard about what he had said. He was right.

I fell asleep that night. Still unable to bring myself to cry. I was almost positive that Roy Palmer would be on the next train back to Minnesota, and I would never see him again. I would have to apologize to Maggie Palmer, and my uncle, who might be so upset with me that he'd ship me back east to be a nanny. But I guess it didn't matter anymore. I didn't have Cullen, and that meant I didn't have anything. This was my curse in life. To be a redhead with no clear path, and no purpose. I thought I had come west, where the desert and the sunsets kept me warm every day. But that night I felt colder than ever.  
A slamming on the car door woke me up before dawn. Great. Roy was back to keep yelling at me so he could get out all he pent up frustrations. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and wrapped a shawl around my shoulders. I shivered from the cold morning as I opened the door. What stood before me was half man-half mud pile.

Mr. Bohannon was literally caked from head to toe in dirt and blood. For a moment I felt no remorse. I wanted to slam the door in his face. But my nature could not let me. I couldn't close the door on anyone in the state he was in, even if he was the man who tore my heart in half.

"Red," he half groaned, half pleaded.

I should probably have been gentler, but I grabbed him by his elbow and pulled him inside. I peeked my head out the door to make sure no one had seen him come in. I turned around to find Cullen sitting on my bed, getting mud all over my sheets. I sighed heavily and rolled my eyes, trying not to scream, or cry.

I walked to the other side of the train car and started a fire under the stove to heat some water. Outside I grabbed two large buckets of water and slowly but surely started heating up pot after pot of water to clean the mud man in my bed.

"You don't have heat the water up, Red," he said with a tone of guilt in his voice.

I didn't reply. I went to him and knelt down, taking off his boots which I took outside and hit against the side of the train car to get the dirt off. I went back inside and took his jacket off, then his vest, then his shirt, until he had nothing on but his long johns. He was in bad shape. His eye was black and blue, and I could tell his ribs were bruised. I gently felt them to make sure they weren't broken. I took the mud caked clothing outside and rinsed them in a large tub of cold water.  
I came back inside with a handful of dry rags.

"The water is warmed up," I said handing him the washcloths. "I'm gonna go wash your clothes,"

I grabbed my bedsheets as well and wadded them up.

"I'll be outside when you're done," I said softly and walked outside.

"Red-" he began to say, but I had already closed the door before he could continue.

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't picturing exactly what he was doing inside my train car while I was outside scrubbing his shirt. I tried to focus on washing to get thoughts of him out of my head. But it wasn't easy. I wanted to cry, but I still couldn't. My eyes just felt heavy.

I started a fire in a pit of rocks and hung a clothesline right above it. I hung up his clothes right about the fire to dry the quickly and warm them up. About a half-hour had passed. I walked up to the door with his mostly-dry clothes in my hands and knocked.

"You can come in," he said through the door.  
I looked down. The buckets of what used to be clean water were now basically buckets of mud, but thankfully Cullen was clean-ish. I handed him his clothes and went to my medical supplies to grab a tube of ointment. I sat him down and carefully applied it to his black eye. He winced a little.

He looked up at me.

"I'm sor- well, uh, thank you. I couldn't let Naomi see me like this," he said without thinking. "Well, I mean just that, uh-" he stuttered.

I slowly closed the tube of ointment and looked down, still not able to cry.

"Naomi's your wife's name." I said.

"Red, I can explain. I can tell you everything," he sighed.

"I don't really want to know right now, Cullen. Maybe not ever," I said. "But she's still gonna see that something happened to you,"

"Yeah, but now I don't look as bad and it won't scare her so much," he grunted trying to stand up.

I wanted to scream at him. So it was alright for him to come to me so that I could tend to him when he should've gone to his wife? But she couldn't handle it? He didn't want to scare her? What was I? His personal nurse? His second wife whose job was to take care of him, but he didn't have to care for me? My thoughts were racing through my head. But I couldn't scream at him, I couldn't cry at him. Someone else had him now. He had a wife. A real wife, and I was doing her job. She would get to scream and bicker with him. She would get to raise a baby with him. I was too broken, too beaten down. I knew he didn't care for me. He didn't love me. Not the way I loved him. And I couldn't stop caring for him, no matter how much I wanted to stop.

"Sun's almost up. You should go," I said rubbing my eyes.

"Please Red, I need to just let you know-" he started.

"I already know everything I need to know, Cullen. You slept with a Mormon girl, and now you have a baby with her, and you made her your wife. Whether you're doing it to be honorable, or because you really love her, it's none of my business. You have a family now,"

"I made a mistake, Red! And now I have to fix it! I didn't-" he tried to talk again.

"We all make mistakes, Mr. Bohannon," I said cutting him off.

I looked him in the eyes.  
"Just please, next time you need a woman to tenderly care for you, please just go to the woman you married, not me," I said, my voice cracking.

The tears were finally building up in my eyes. I walked out of the train car before he could see. 


End file.
